


For Thine is the Kingdom

by BlueRoboKitty



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Demons, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Horror, Non-Explicit Sex, Politics, Religious Fanaticism, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 63,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not easy being the younger sister of the Hero of Ferelden. When 22-year-old Rinlyra Tabris accompanied childhood friend, Ketthan Trevelyan, to the Divine Conclave, she did not expect she would come out of the ordeal with a magical mark on her hand and the deaths of hundreds upon her head. As Rin hits the ground running from mass murderer to divine messenger, leader of the Inquisition, she unfolds even more sinister forces at work from both outside and within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When the Sky Started Bleeding

**[Revised 1 Feb 2016]**

He smelled like autumn.

That was the last thing she remembered before everything went blindingly bright only to become complete darkness just as quickly, and a loud terrible sound had tore through her like she had burst into a million pieces. He smelled of autumn, a warm burning scent like the last tendrils of summer, the crispy whispers of a coming winter, the gentle decay of the final harvest. Rin had never known shems could smell so… pleasant. Everyone in Denerim always smelled like mead and wet dog, humans and elves alike. Clean water had always been difficult to come by. Unless it rained, which was sometimes the only way you would have anything close to a bath that week. And then you came out smelling like mud. The nobles in the Free Marches didn’t smell much better. Even though they actually bathed on a regular basis, and they used oils and perfumes to imitate the fragrance of flowers and treats and other pleasant things, the scent was always overpowering which often mixed with other scents to create a thick, unbreathable vapor in the room. Elf noses tended to be much more sensitive than those of humans’, and the aroma would be enough to all but knock her off her feet every time.

But _his_ smell… it was very nice. It made Rin sort of wish he would hug her again under less than life-or-death circumstances. If he was still alive, of course. It would be a damn pity if the Maker decided to take him to His Side already. Ketthan Trevelyan wasn’t even twenty yet, barely three years younger than her. Despite the five years she had spent as a servant of House Trevelyan in their ridiculously massive residence that no family should have a right to live in by themselves, she didn’t know him very well. Ket was a mage living in the Ostwick Circle, so his visits home were very brief. He had always been kind to her, though. She loved his gentle smell the best.

Thinking of him helped occupy her mind as Rinlyra Tabris sat in the poorly lit room, her arms tied to a cuff bar of iron so tight that she couldn’t move them. The few candles that lit the room were hardly enough to penetrate the thick darkness, their white wax trailing down the walls from their holders like thick milky tears. Her left hand throbbed as if something alive was pressing against the confines of her skin. Every few minutes or so, something akin to hot knives would stab deep her palm, sending white hot pain all the way up her arm to the base of her brain as green sparks burst from the pores of her hand.

Rin had no idea where this _thing_ came from. That’s what she had told the two shem women who had been interrogating her for the past several hours. She wasn’t even a mage, just a humble girl with nothing but her wits and arrows to solve her troubles. They didn’t believe her, of course. Since when was being an elf found at the scene of the crime with the evidence implanted in her hand anything but damning? Then again, Rin was certain she would remember orchestrating such a grand scheme that involved killing hundreds of Thedas’s significant human citizens, including their precious Divine. She was sure she would even own up to something like that.

When those very words left her mouth, the larger woman with the sharp features and short black hair punched her right in the mouth, her scowl making the deep scar on her cheek even more jagged. Rin had simply given her grin as bloody red as her hair. She had a scar of her own cutting through her right eyebrow, and her left canine had went missing the moment it grew in when she was a child. Her super adorable, freckled face had endured worse.

“You should be more respectful to the dead!” Angry Lady had snarled. She was apparently a Seeker of sorts, Rin had picked up on. 

“Heh, why? I mean, I’ll be joining them, anyway. Will they beat me up, too, when I get to the Beyond?”

“That would be a gentle punishment considering the atrocity you have committed.”

The quiet woman wearing the purple cowl and not having a bad pair of lips herself stepped in and pulled Angry Lady away before she could damage Rin more. “Remember, Cassandra, we need her,” she had said in a thick Orlesian accent. “We can’t kill her. Not yet.”

No matter what these women had tried, they hadn’t managed to get anything more than how much Rin had wanted to bang that sexy mage boy with the nice smell and then suddenly her left hand had magic powers. That was it, that was the whole story.

“And what were you even _doing_ at the Conclave?” the Seeker had snapped, and that had probably been the fourth time she had asked that very question.

“I already told you; I’m a servant of House Trevelyan. As if the ears didn’t give that away.” That wasn’t _entirely_ a lie. It had been true until about three years ago, and then once more since these past few weeks when she had masqueraded as Ket’s servant to sneak into the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

And it wasn’t like Rin wasn’t _trying_ to remember anything. To be fair, the circumstances made her a bit curious herself. But all she could remember was Ket, and she wasn’t sure his sweet looks were the sole reason why. Had he been… yelling at her? For some reason she could remember a lot of yelling? And then everything became really dark. Not an unconscious dark. But a darkness like where she was sitting now, barely able to see anything. Only there were no candles there, no source of light she could find yet everything seemed to have an unnatural glow that didn’t help keep the dark away. A bad, dark place where the darkness was a sentient being trying to _swallow_ her.

This was the circular logic they had chased her around in for about half a day until Orlesian Babe finally dragged the Angry Seeker out of the room and left Rin alone.

Okay, she wasn’t _entirely_ alone. Two guards stood watch over her while she waited for these women to finish arguing over when they were finally going to kill her. “Nice day, isn’t it?” Rin asked, with her most charming smiling and everything, but neither guard indicated that he even heard her. Typical shem. So boring in conversation.

Both of their faces were hidden under metal helms, their eyes shadowed by the slits they peeked out of. One guard was wearing the ceremonial armor of Orlais, soft and impractical. She could take him easily. The other’s breastplate bore the sword-shaped insignia of the Templar Order. He would be a bit tougher. There would probably be no time to _negotiate_ her way out through her _usual_ means, but his armor was a heavy steel with bulky shoulder pauldrons weighing him down. She could probably slip by him and out the door in the confusion, and hopefully before that Angry Lady named Cassandra came back. There was still the issue of being strapped to this iron bar, but maybe if she wiggled her wrist _just right…_

The door opened and the beam of light that seeped through was all but blinding. Rin squinted her eyes and turned away. She was sure it was just her imagination, but the light coming from the door seemed as green as the light trying to burst out of her hand.

Only Angry Lady came in. Without Orlesian Babe there to hold her back, Rin wondered out loud if the _real_ interrogation was about to begin. With the rack and whips and everything. Seriously, it was boring sitting here just being yelled at all afternoon. 

Cassandra the Seeker, however, said nothing, and the guards kept their swords pointed close to Rin’s face as her hands were freed from the iron bar.

“You’re freeing me? Why the sudden change in tune?”

Cassandra gave her a glare that stabbed her right in the retinas and hoisted the small elf roughly to her feet. It was easy for her to do as she was indeed incredibly strong, and Rin was barely five feet tall. Rin staggered as she was pushed out the door, stumbling into a freezing world bathed in an eerie light. The calendar said it should be late summer, but here, this high up in the Frostbacks, winter was eternal. The sharp air burned her split lip, but she hardly noticed.

Instead, her amber eyes drifted up, up, up to see a whirling green column piercing into the sky from the mountain where the Temple of Sacred Ashes stood just yesterday. Or rather, used to stand as pieces of earth and the temple itself drifted up toward the gaping, black wound in the very atmosphere. The way the column swirled and danced both captivated her and made her stomach turn. “That’s a hole,” she gasped, struck with awe and terror at the same time. “That’s a hole in the sky!”

“So it is,” Cassandra replied dryly as if she was making a casual observation about the weather. “We call it the Breach. The explosion created this thing, and it’s tearing right through the Veil. It destroyed the Temple, and everyone who attended the Conclave. Except you, of course.”

It certainly didn’t look like anyone would be capable of surviving something like that. Another spark from her hand popped out the most intense pain Rin ever felt, as if someone was trying to tear her arm off at the bone, and she fell to the dirt with a pained cry. It had been popping like this for a while now, but it was like seeing that Breach whatsits made it significantly worse. Cassandra knelt down next to her while Rin rolled on the ground in agony. “As the Breach grows, the Mark on your hand spreads. It is killing you.”

“Agh… good to know.” Maker, could this woman sound any more matter-of-fact about it? Such a cold way of telling someone they were slowly being killed remotely by a colossal magic beacon. “Ah! Seriously, you think I would do this to myself? Come on, lady.”

Cassandra’s mouth curved down in a scowl. “Something clearly went wrong, then.”

“I’m not even a mage!” The pain was driving Rin to near hysterics, and she struggled to keep her wits about her. "Seriously, if I wanted to go on some kind of suicide mission, I would have tried to steal the Ferelden crown jewels and Queen Anora's unmentionables!" 

Cassandra seemed to pretend she didn't hear that last bit. "Even if you are telling the truth, even if you had nothing to do with this," she said, her voice collected and even, "you are involved. You are _connected_ to the Breach in some way. This Mark on your hand proves it.”

The pain subsided enough for Rin to at least get to her knees. Having a shem tower over her was always an uncomfortable situation to be in, unless there was fun to be had. “And what do you expect me to do about it?” she asked, turning her hand over and over as little green sparks licked her palm. It would actually be kind of pretty if it wasn’t trying to kill her in a brutal way.

Cassandra sighed, and she almost sounded _defeated._ “I do not know.”

“That’s so helpful.”

The Seeker briefly closed her eyes. “Help us, and I can ensure that you get a fair trial.”

“Hmm, yes, because human justice works out so well for _knife-ears.”_ Even Rin's whacked humor couldn't keep out that bitter truth. 

Maybe it was the look in Cassandra’s eyes, this woman whose angry hazel gaze flickered just enough to reveal the desperation within. Or maybe Rin couldn’t see any alternative. The Breach did look like a pretty damning problem for the entire world if left unchallenged. And slow death by this Mark consuming her bit by bit didn’t sound any more appealing than an execution.

“Fine. I’ll do what I can to help out.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened in brief surprise only to narrow again. “Truly?” Suspicion dripped from both syllables. This woman had cynicism in spades.

“I don’t really have a choice, but yes,” Rin replied with a noncommittal shrug. She wasn’t about to let the Seeker know that this Breach business actually kind of terrified her, and she wanted to do something about it anyway. Rin was no hero by any stretch of the imagination. That didn’t mean she refused help if it was clear she could do something about it. 

For a second, Cassandra looked slightly younger and her shoulders relaxed, as if a heavy weight had physically been lifted from her body. “We have some allies waiting for us at the forward camp. A few of them had made theories regarding the Mark and how it can be used for our cause. Come, it is not too far.”

Rin smirked at Cassandra’s turned back. What was stopping her from running away here and now, though? Not that she really planned to, but once she got her hands on a weapon of sorts, she can slip into the woods never to be seen again. Cassandra’s armor didn’t seem nearly as weighty as a Templar’s, but Rin could outrun any shem. Surviving the forest wasn’t any more difficult than surviving Denerim’s underbelly.

“Don’t even _think_ about running away,” Cassandra said. She didn’t elaborate with a threat, but the deadly certainty of her tone made it so she didn’t have to. Rin shivered. Cassandra was scarier than the Breach.

Cassandra led Rin across a bridge that had been built over a large ravine, and suddenly green lightning struck. With the deafening crack, Rin felt the stones give away beneath her feet, and the scream froze in her throat as she fell. Cold wind whistled in her ears as she felt her body plummet straight down. Perhaps the Maker was watching over her after all, as she landed in fresh snow, just missing the very solid rocks lying as if in wait beneath the bridge. Others were not so lucky, surprised exclamations cut off with the sickening crack of bone. Blood stained the snow as it seeped from their broken bodies, and some were completely crushed. She looked away, trying to avoid those eyes staring straight ahead forever frozen in horrified surprise.

“Are you alright?” Cassandra called, scrambling toward her, and Rin was startled to hear the genuine concern in her voice.

“I’m… fine. Mostly bruised. That light... is the Breach _attacking_ us?”

More streaks of green lightning struck the ground as if answering Rin's question, and the Breach itself was indeed searching for them. One of the lightning bolts struck something invisible in the air, and began tearing into nothing. Rin watched the air itself rip apart, and a thick smell seeped through the black crack. The putrid odor dug into her nostrils, making her stomach churn. It was akin to the smell of a mangy dog that had spent too much time in the rain, the smell of the corners of the Alienage on its worst days, the smell of sour milk and skunky beer, the kind of smell that crawled beneath your skin. Something oily slid to the ground from the glowing laceration, rising up and taking shape into a hideous creature with long arms and claw-like fingers.

“Demon,” Cassandra hissed, her sword and shield gleaming in her hands as she stepped in front of Rin. “Get back. I’ll take care of it.”

Even as the Seeker charged headlong at the demon, Rin could see more and more oily entities slipping through the rips in the air. Her ears began to ring as something heavy pushed against her head. The air itself felt _warped,_ heavy, twisted. Breathing became more and more difficult. And she wanted desperately to throw up. She forced her gag reflex to calm down, however. Puking during a fight was like the ultimate sign of weakness, even worse than crying. Unless you could weaponize your projectile vomit. Rin didn’t think that tactic would work on these guys, however.

Several weapon caches and chests and other supplies had fallen down the ravine with them when the bridge collapsed. While most were broken or buried under rocks, Rin saw a large bow sticking out of the wooden shreds of what used to be a box. Grabbing it, she noticed a quiver with some arrows. "Maker be praised," she whispered in reverence. She wasn't the overly religious type, but a prayer every now and again never hurt. 

The first arrow flew with sharp precision into the eye of the first demon. It squealed with a high-pitched tone that stabbed right into Rin’s brain before collapsing in a puddle of black goop. The other two turned to regard her, and one was cut down in half by Cassandra’s sword before it realized what happened. The third rushed toward Rin with its maw wide open, tendrils of black slime flying from its many teeth.

Rin froze. She couldn’t take her eyes off this hideous nightmare rushing directly at her. Its thick odor seeped into her throat, wrapping around her windpipe, slowly choking the air from her lungs. Her stomach swam violently, and her chest burned. Everything was getting dark. Green sparks flared from her hand as her bow dropped to her feet. Many voices like nails grated against her brain as they told her with maniacal glee all the horrible ways she was going to die.

The demon stopped moving when the point of Cassandra’s sword burst out of its chest in a spray of black liquid. It melted around the blade with a ringing scream.

The moment Rin’s knees hit the frosted dirt, she vomited. Having not eaten anything in hours, all that came out was a bright yellow liquid that burned her throat like acid. “I had the same reaction the first time I saw a demon,” Cassandra said, her voice gentle as if she were actually trying to comfort Rin. “And I can't say it gets any easier. You must steal your resolve, child. There are many more demons the closer we get to the Breach.”

“That’s… comforting,” Rin gasped. With Cassandra’s help, she staggered back to her feet, taking the bow with her. At the Seeker's glare, she grasped the weapon tightly. “I need this.”

“That you do,” Cassandra agreed with a nod after a moment of consideration. “I cannot protect you anymore.”

The Seeker had not been exaggerating about the hordes of demons lurking closer to the Breach. It was as if for every one they put down, they encountered three more. Rin never did get used to them. But each fight made it somewhat easier for her to ignore the voices trying to crawl into her head, to force her body not to react to the smell of the Fade.

“There’s a camp not far from here,” Cassandra called to her. “Quickly! I can hear them fighting!”

“Who?” Rin asked, running after her. She had underestimated the Seeker’s speed; despite the heavy armor, that woman moved like a river, a smooth flow of relentless force. Rin’s legs could barely keep up with her long slides.

“You will meet them soon enough. If we all manage to survive!”

The camp they came across was a battlefield with a blinding tear of oozing green light at its center. The air crackled with magic, fire and lightning clashing together. In that light, Rin could make out the figures of demons trying to squirm their way through, and those that did were met with blades and spells. Before Rin could join the fray, someone grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the tear. “Hurry!” A male voice yelled in the chaos, and she realized it was from that person who had grabbed her. “Use the Mark before more come through!”

Rin had absolutely no idea what that meant until that someone raised her hand with the Mark high, high enough to lift her to her toes. Her palm sparked with bright violence as green magic pulled against the tear, pulled and pulled and pulled and when she finally managed to wrest her arm away, it was if she was yanking it out of tar pit. There was a small explosion and the resistance finally let go of her. The demons were gone, and the air was back to normal as if nothing had been there at all.

“What was that?” Rin gasped, dizzy and suddenly exhausted as if whatever she had done had taken the energy from her very soul. A male elf stood next to her, and Rin would be overjoyed to meet another of her kind if the circumstances had been different. “What did you do?”

He smiled at her, and it was a handsome smile in its own way. It helped draw attention away from his shiny bald head, something Rin wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about. Bald heads were not exactly a trend among her kind. It reminded her of a newborn baby. Or an egg. “That was not me, _da’len_ ,” he said and his voice wasn’t unpleasant to listen to, either. What did he just call her? “You did all of that yourself. I merely guided you along.”

“Wait. You mean this thing?” Rin glanced down at her hand in surprise. It hurt less now, just a little. Now it nipped at her with a sensation of dull knives instead of sharp daggers. “Good to know it’s useful.”

“I had theorized that the Mark on your hand is connected to these Rifts and perhaps the Breach itself, which may be our key to – “

“Uh huh.” Something else caught Rin’s eye and she quickly brushed past the elf, not hearing anything else he had to say or Cassandra’s protests. A young man stood a little away from the group, brushing the dust and demon bits off his leather armor with one hand, shaking black goop off his thin-blade scimitar with the other. Tiny embers flickered from his fingers as his fire magic burned away. 

He was alive. The shem boy with the burnt scent and delicious looking lips. He was really, truly alive. Flecks of snow and blood clung to his ginger hair and the scruff of his brown face, and he had that same mildly annoyed expression he constantly wore as if life itself was an inconvenience he was forced to endure. “Ket!” she cried as she ran up to him, hopping over debris. “You're alive, I can’t believe it!” She launched herself into his arms because why not, and he took a few steps back when he caught her to keep his balance.

“None the worse for wear,” Ket replied in a voice that was a little deep for a lad his age, and she giggled when he patted the top of her head. “Good to see you made it. You’ve been out for a few days.”

Rin immediately let go of him, her jaw dropping. “It’s been _days?_ ”

“Two, actually.”

The Egg-elf walked up to them and standing next to Ket, Rin realized how _tall_ the elf was. Granted, Ket himself was barely average height for a shem, but the bald elf had to be almost six feet at _least._ “Master Trevelyan has been helping me keep the Mark from spreading while you slept. His knowledge of wards is most impressive.”

“Hmph,” Ket muttered, and Rin had to bite her tongue to keep from giggling at him. Healing magic was not one of Ket’s fortes, and he had often complained about how the entire discipline eluded him.

Instead, she gave him a mischievous grin, raising her hands to her face in mock embarrassment. “You’ve been watching me sleep? You scoundrel.”

“Yes, it was all quite scandalous considering you were dying,” Ket shot back, rolling his dark green eyes. "My mother is clutching her pearls as we speak." 

"And thank you for your help, too," Rin said to the Egg. 

He looked surprised at her expression of gratitude. “I only did I had to." He frowned a little. "But I’m afraid we’ve only managed to slow the spread for the time being. If the Breach is not closed soon, you will be beyond saving. Cassandra, you should know that this is unlike any magic I have ever encountered. Your prisoner is no mage, and Master Trevelyan, while possessing extraordinary potential, is not capable or experienced enough to wield such power. I doubt any mortal mage that we know of can.”

“Looks like we are back to square one, Seeker,” a hoarse male voice remarked, and Rin finally noticed the clean-cut dwarf standing next to Cassandra. He dressed like a noble of sorts, neat and fashionable despite the blood splatter staining the fabric as if not even demon gore could ruin his sense of fashion. She could see the strawberry-blond curls of his chest hair poking from his open collar. He held a very elaborate crossbow, and Rin was overcome with the urge to figure out how that weapon worked. She could practically feel the smooth oak against her palms, trace the golden decoration along her fingertips, feel its hard bottom cock against her shoulder.

“ _We?”_ Cassandra echoed, her lips twisted in a disgusted sneer.

“Of course I’m coming with you, Seeker. You _need_ me.” The dwarf noticed Rin watching them and winked at her.

“Ugh.” Cassandra turned away, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Let’s just get on with it.”

Introductions were made as the group made its way deeper into the mountain. The dwarf was Varric, and he had named his fascinating crossbow that Rin couldn’t stop fantasizing about Bianca. The elf mage who called himself Solas was the exact opposite of Varric’s neat appearance; his robes were thin and stained, he smelled of dirt and wilderness, and he was adorned with many pouches and packs as if he carried literally everything he owned.

Rin couldn’t help hanging back a little as the group continued up the mountain path, wanting to talk with Solas some more. After everything that had happened so far, it was nice to talk with one of her own for a little bit. “So did you run from an alienage?” she asked him.

“No, I grew up in a small rural village. There were no cities anywhere for miles. I lived a very content life, and for a while free of any shemlan interference.”

Rin’s eyes went wide. “Are you Dalish?” she prodded. She knew little about the Dalish, other than that they were savages and barbarians according to everybody else. Her older sister had been fascinated with them, but fantasies didn’t keep her alienage from starving due to food shortage. As far Rin was concerned, Dalish were just elves that didn’t happen to be stuck in the city, and that was all that made them different.

“I am not Dalish,” Solas snapped, and she raised an eyebrow. His terse, harsh answer was enough indication that her innocent question had reminded him that someone had pissed on his bread this morning. And they had been getting along so well not even ten seconds ago.

“Uh, okay,” she muttered and the subject was dropped entirely.

He sighed. "Forgive me. I don't consider myself having much in common with the Dalish, so consistently being compared to them gets a little irritable. I did not mean to be, ah, snappy." 

"Oh. It's okay, I can understand that." 

After resting for a few minutes at the forward camp and replenishing their supplies, they ended up continuing through the mountain pass instead of meeting the soldiers in the valley. Rin figured it would be best to get to the Breach as fast as possible, and maybe find that little scouting party along the way. And apparently, since she was the one with the Mark, she was the final decision maker. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, to be honest. Cassandra didn’t seem pleased with this first major decision of hers, either. Then again, Cassandra didn’t seem pleased with Rin’s very existence, even though the young Tabris was certain she was proving herself at least a little bit, especially after closing two more Rifts on the way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Closing them was getting a bit tougher. Her head pounded like it could barely hold itself together. When she swayed for a few steps, a strong arm steadied her in place. “You okay?” Ket asked.

“Yeah. I just… got really dizzy all of a sudden. Some hero I’m turning out to be, huh?”

“You’re doing fine.”

“Thanks.” His reassuring smile did not seem like much of a comfort while standing on the blood soaked ground, the snow darkening from the insides of the unlucky scouts that had fallen prey to demons, yet Rin felt her heart lift a little.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was just as Rin had imagined it would look like: a chaotic mess of debris and corpses. Some of the bodies were still reaching with outstretched arms toward the heavens as if begging the Maker for mercy, their jaws opened wide in eternal screaming as if they knew at the very last second of their lives what was happening to them. Flames still licked at their empty burnt eye sockets and bones that shined like obsidian. And those were the bodies that hadn’t been reduced to dark piles of dust. Rin felt her knees shake a little. For all her defenses disguised as a poor sense of humor, the gravity of their desperate situation started to weigh down on her as she stared at the evidence of the horror she had been accused of orchestrating. Little wonder Cassandra wanted to execute her on the spot.

Rin stood very still, her eyes closed. She was beginning to feel sick again. It was difficult to breathe, the air heavy and toxic with death. She coughed, and that burned her throat, and she put her scarf over her mouth and nose to filter out the ash fluttering around them like black snow. “How did we survive this?” she whispered to Ket.

“I don’t know,” he replied just as quietly. “I’ve never heard of such magic. Perhaps that Mark shielded you. And I must have been close enough to you to be shielded as well.”

“So… I did cause all this?”

“No.” His hand tightened a little on her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

Common sense told Rin that much had to be true. She wasn’t a mage, and she certainly had no plan or motive to blow up the Conclave and kill everyone inside, not that she could remember and she was pretty sure she could if that had been the case. The ghastly evidence around her and the Mark eating at her hand told her things were not as simple as that. Again, she struggled to remember what happened, but came up with nothing but the sensation of being inside the belly of some dark place that chewed on her as she tried to flee.

The tip of her foot accidentally kicked a pile of ash. Something solid bounced against her toe and _chimed_ as it arched through the air to hit the ground again. Rin immediately dropped to her knees and dug, trying not to think about how much of this dust had most likely once been a person. Her fingers scraped against something round and hard, and she heard that chime again.

It was a bell.

A tiny white bell attached to a chain dangled from her dusty hand. It was a delicate little thing, pure white with intricate designs of a craftsmanship she had never seen before. The lines were too flowy for dwarven make, too smooth for human, too relaxed for an elf. Rin wasn’t sure of the material, but it was so finely crafted that the bell made a delicate, high-pitched ring whenever she shook it. Whoever had made this had clearly made it out of love. 

The corners of her eyes ached with emerging tears. 

“What is that?” Ket asked as Rin stood back to her feet.

“I don’t know,” she answered, and her voice trembled a little. “But, I feel like I should keep this.” The chain had miraculously remained intact, and Rin tied it around her neck. The bell chimed again as it settled against her bosom, like it had accepted her at its new owner.

As they approached the epicenter of the explosion where the Breach had been born, Rin’s ears began to ring much like it had around those demons. Her head suddenly felt very heavy, and she could even feel the very muscles and tendons of her neck straining to hold it up. “We’re here,” Cassandra announced. She may as well have been speaking underwater, her voice worming its way through Rin’s head like sludge.

At the foot of the Breach was a colossal rift different from all the others they had encountered so far. Parts of the Fade that looked like giant crystalized daggers poked in and out of the slit, tearing through the reality that desperately tried to weave itself back together. “This is the first Rift and the largest,” Solas explained as if from very, very far away. “This is the key to sealing the Breach for good.”

Ignoring the pulsing in her vision, Rin examined the Rift some more. It throbbed as if it could barely contain whatever was trying to burst out from behind. Solas went on to explain that it hadn’t been closed properly, that Rin would have reopen it and then close it again. “We will attract attention from the other side, however,” he warned, “so we need to do this quickly.” 

“That means demons,” Cassandra warned, drawing her sword. It blazed in the green light of the Breach in a challenge. “Stand ready.”

While Rin was certain she was moving as quick as she could toward the bottom of the Breach where the Rift lay, her pace felt heavy and slow. Voices started speaking in her head again, growing louder and louder with each step. And then Rin realized these voices were not in her head, but high above her, coming from within the Rift itself.

 _“What’s going on? Are you okay!?”_ she heard her own voice exclaim, clearer than a cloudless sky, her usual carefree tone laced with first curiosity and then shocked alarm ringing throughout the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Then came Ket’s desperate cry of _“Don’t touch it!”_ , followed by the screams of _“Run! Warn them!”_ from a woman whose voice she didn’t recognize. Rin could even see the smoky figure of an old woman wearing chantry robes in a mist that surrounded the Rift, only these robes were far more elaborate and finely detailed. Her wrinkled eyes wide with desperation as she struggled against her bonds. Rin glanced at Ket who simply shook his head back at her, his face twisted with a perplexity that mirrored her own.

“You _were_ there!” Cassandra cried, whipping around on Rin, and the elf stared nervously at that sword’s very sharp end pointing directly at her. “The Divine…! She called out to you, to the _both_ of you! WHY? _Why didn’t you help her!?_ ”

“Trust me, I’m just as astounded as you are,” Rin replied, not taking her eyes off that sword. Someone asking _her_ for help? Like _Maker’s Divine_ someone? Surely, there had to be a mistake here somewhere.

“Let’s just keep going, Seeker,” Ket spoke up, stepping closer to Rin and giving Cassandra a hard look. She could feel the heat seeping from his body as the fire within him grew along with his temper, and smoke drifted from his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “We’ve already told you that we don’t remember what happened. I’m sure we’ll have more answers soon enough.”

"Don't think this lets you off the hook, either, Trevelyan," Cassandra warned. "Had I been the one to find you and not Solas - " 

"We should probably discuss this later, yeah?" Rin interjected before a fight broke out between them. Ketthan was a bit of the protective type; he would fight anyone who was a threat to Rin, no matter who or what. Whenever he was around had been the few times Rinlyra actually truly enjoyed being a servant. 

Rin noticed what looked to be veins of red crystal growing along the dark mountain walls as if the walls themselves were bleeding. The crystal glowed in an eerie, crimson light that made Rin shiver for no reason other than she felt instinctively creeped out just looking at it.

“Red lyrium!” Varric gasped, his voice a mix of horror and awe. “What is it doing _here?_ Damn… don’t touch it! This shit will drive you insane.”

“This is the stuff you were telling me about,” Cassandra said. “The lyrium that drove Knight-Commander Meredith to madness.”

“The very same, Seeker.”

As Rin passed the corrupted lyrium, she could feel something tugging at the back of her mind. It was a strange compelling sensation, and she couldn’t help looking at the lyrium again. This feeling actually soothed away the ache in her head, pushing away the fogginess that made her own brain feel too heavy for her skull. She could see her warped, twisted reflection in a particularly thick vein. Despite its creepiness, it was strangely… pretty. Its glow beckoned her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to _touch_ it.

_"Now is the hour of our victory.”_

Rin jumped when the gravelly voice boomed like an explosion, the mountain itself trembling at the words. The voice was distinctly male and rumbled like a landslide. It actually wasn’t an unpleasant voice to listen to, if the ringing in Rin’s already sensitive elven ears hadn’t returned with a vengeance. She tried to ignore it as she stumbled down to the bottom of the Breach where the others had gathered, if it was possible to ignore your own head being on the verge of bursting. The Mark seared like a million knives stabbing into her palm, and her arm throbbed as if it was trying to twist itself off her body. She hissed through her teeth, trying to force the pain to the back of her mind and focus. She’s had worse than this!

Actually, that was a lie. The pain was pretty bad, and she had never felt anything like this before. In all the scrapping and fighting she had gotten into growing up, no one had ever tried to twist her arm out of its socket.

Cassandra was busy barking orders at the rest of the soldiers who had gathered, and Varric had positioned himself with the other archers. Ket was giving Rin an inquiring look, and she somehow managed to pretend her arm didn’t hurt at all. He had done nothing but worry about her since they started this little adventure, and he needed to focus on helping close the Rift which would hopefully close the Breach itself and all of this would be over.

“All you have to do is open it,” Solas reminded Rin as she approached. “We will distract the demons that come through so you can close it again.”

“Yeah, got it.”

Solas reached down to pat her shoulder, and for a moment Rin marveled at how _tall_ he was. “Good luck, Miss Rinlyra. I know you’ll be able to do this.” He left her there to take his position with the archers, leaving only her and Ket standing there next to the Rift.

Ket gave her a smile, and a ball of fire appeared in his outstretched palm. “Ready when you are,” he said with a grin that was actually infectious. She smiled back, feeling a fierce determination start to grow inside her, and the Mark in her hand glowed with emerald magic. If she focused on it _just right,_ it didn’t hurt at all.

It was time to end this.


	2. Before the Sky Broke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback of Ketthan with an eager Templar and the events leading up to the Conclave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since an update, and I apologize for that. This is what happens when I start a long-fic before understanding where I plan to take it. Just because it's based on in-game events, doesn't mean things are going to be exact. Or even canon, for that matter. This chapter is significantly shorter than the first, which bothers me a little bit, but I plan for most of the chapters being as long as this one. I suppose the introductory chapter being kind of longer than the others isn't all that bad.

The Templar’s name was Derik, fresh out of basic training, and barely older than Ketthan. It amused, even interested him that this particular soldier was assigned to escort a prominent family member of House Trevelyan, mage or no. It also, admittedly, annoyed him - Ser Derik was restless and all too eager to please his superiors, to prove himself to his peers with both his deeds and the bulk of muscle on his body. He was taller than Ket, too, no surprise, most people were. Handsome in a naive, farmboy kind of way with curly brown hair and thin lips. From his restless stature to his smooth, scarless skin, everything about him betrayed his inexperience no matter how much he tried to hide it. 

Ket wasn’t blind to his own special treatment Ostwick Circle gave him and the other mages here. He was very aware the status of his family prevented him from experiencing the injustices his fellow mages in other Circles had to endure. If an overachieving Templar rookie clung to his very shadow with each step he took, so be it. If this same rookie got lippy with him, pushed him around like some kind of big shot, whatever. 

But it interfered with his concentration and _that_ annoyed him greatly. _Ancient Rituals of Fire and Smoke_ wasn’t going to read itself, and he certainly couldn’t do it with someone literally breathing down his neck. He was already three months overdue returning the book as it was, and the Circle librarian had not minced words on the kind of punishment Ketthan was going to receive if he ever dared return to the library without it. 

“What are you doing, mage?” the question was often asked and often with a sneer from the nosey Templar. 

“Studying,” was Ket’s usual, noncommittal answer. 

A scoff, always a scoff. “Why would a mage need to study anything?” 

“To better my skills, like how you train with your sword.” 

“Better your skills?” There came the mocking laugh; Ket could have timed it perfectly by now. “Mages don’t need better skills, or better _anything_. They just need to keep quiet and stay locked away where they can’t hurt innocent people.” 

Ket generally, for the most part, considered himself a rather patient, compliant person. He had to be for the safety of those around him. But his patience only stretched so thin. The flames of a pyromancer burned from deep within, and the embers would eventually eat away at him to become an inferno. He had to nip this in the bud soon; if he kept up this pretense of being a good mage, a mage like any other, someone was going to get hurt. 

One winter morning, Derik followed him around as he always had, like any devoted Templar would do. He was so caught up in his mission of guarding the “dangerous” mage that he didn’t even notice where Ket had led him, not until the lack of the presence of other people made him look up and realize nobody stood in this snowy courtyard except the two of them. 

“Mage,” he warned when Ket turned to face him. 

“I don’t particularly care how you address me, Ser Derik,” Ket replied, an underlying chill worse than the wind lacing his otherwise casual tone. “It’s not like this is a place to make friends. But you need to learn some ground rules, and better I tell you now and save you from learning the hard way.”

“The hard way,” Derik sneered. “You slimy little - “ 

“I was brought here to the Circle when I was nine years old,” Ket continued, extinguishing any further protest from the Templar. Flames emerged from his fingertips, and he played with them between his hands like a toy. Derik took a step back, and his hands jumped on the hilt of his sword. He eyed those flames with a wary gaze, his blue eyes following each move, back and forth, up and over, as they danced and twirled like fireflies in summer. 

“There was a Templar, new recruit just like you, whose prejudice wouldn’t hold back even for children. He said things, cruel things, smacked me around a few times, tried to mold me into a good little mage that wouldn’t tell anyone of the new bruise I received each day. And then one day, in winter just like now, that Templar had to be relieved from duty. His body had all but cut in half from shoulder to thigh, and he had been blinded in one eye.” 

Two tiny firefly balls crashed into each other in a shower of flame to become one larger ball, floating and shining between the mage’s hands like a miniature sun. It attracted the flames crackling upon smokey fingers that did not burn. 

Derik licked the sweat off his lip as his imagination conjured the most horrifying images of that poor Templar’s fate. He vaguely remembered hearing a story like this once from the other recruits when he was in training. “A-and this proves what? I already know you mages are dangerous, that you - !” 

“Oh, _I_ didn’t do anything. I was just a cute, nine-year-old kid. Like I had that kind of power, heh.” 

Ket twisted the fireball, warping it, stretching it beyond its limits, sparks of fire shooting out as if panicked. Derik couldn’t force his gaze away. 

“ _My brother_ , on the other hand… well, let’s just say Khearan is a tad bit _overprotective._ Quite adores me, in fact, it’s a little embarrassing. Family means more to him than the Templar Order, you see. It’s just how he is.” 

He shrugged. The fireball snapped in half in a shower of flame, and with a wave of his hands, it all dispersed into thin smoke and disappeared. Ket looked pointedly at Derik, just in time to see the Templar’s eyes brighten with realization. “Knight-Captain Khearan… he’s... “ 

“My brother, Khearan Trevelyan, yes. I’m also a Trevelyan, something you would have known had you even bothered to at least learn my name. Surely, you could have used this information a while back ago.”

Derik let go of his sword as if the hilt had burned him. The sweat glittered off his forehead, the beads freezing against the skin which had grown ashen with fear. Ket stepped close to him, and he reached up to touch just beneath the Templar’s clean-shaven chin, his hand warming again. “It seems to me that now you understand the position you are in, Ser Derik,” he said, his voice low, almost kind. 

A brief pause, and Derik nodded. “Y-yes, ma- Ketthan,” he barely croaked, shaking from the terror of Knight-Captain Khearan’s well-earned reputation among the Order. “What… what would you have me do?” 

Ket chuckled. How it must have _pained_ the little Templar to humble himself to a mage he perceived only moments ago to be a mere commoner. His skin grew hotter and the thinnest tendrils of smoke drifted from his lips as he drew close to Derik’s ear. The snow at their feet had melted to a thin puddle. Derik began to sweat more, growing red from Ket’s mere proximity. 

“I want you to give me some godsdamn breathing room,” the pyromancer hissed. 

The heat vanished to the frigid cold of late winter once again. Ketthan began making his way back to the Tower, and after a few heartbeats, Derik got the nerve to follow him, this time keeping a more respectable distance between them. Good kid. Now Ket understood why this particular Templar had been assigned to him. No doubt it had been on Khearan’s recommendation. 

He couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy about the whole situation, however, and a part of him wondered if he should have told the kid about the severe burns the poor man had suffered beforehand, the burns that lead to Khearan cutting him down as further punishment. The incident was what made young Ket say anything at all, him knowing above all others the extent of Khearan’s unforgiving wrath. 

No. Derik feared mages enough already. Confirming those fears would not change anything, would even hurt the others. Better to introduce a new fear, a more intimate, personal fear, to keep him under control, one that took away even the protection of his precious Order. 

Khearan would be proud at that this level of manipulation. It was sickening. 

\\\\\

Two years later, Ketthan still sometimes wondered if that particular conversation had been necessary to begin with. Scaring the poor boy had never sat well with him, and he had paid for his action by being unable to concentrate, anyway. The frightened fawn eyes Ser Derik stared at him with were just as distracting as a mocking gaze. Ket had set several of his quills on fire on those days when his frustrations became too much to contain completely. 

He had underestimated Khearan’s reputation, and used it to traumatize a Templar fresh from the recruitment table. Derik kept his distance, just like Ket had wanted, but his restlessness had transformed into a skittish disposition that jumped whenever the pyromancer gave him a glance. Ket wasn’t like his brother; he didn’t like people being afraid of him. Instead of learning more about the Templar, developing some kind of rapport with his escort, a haphazard wall had been built out of desperation for some sense of security. 

The Conclave kept him occupied, at least. All the formalities and impressions he maintained while speaking with other Circles and noble houses forced him to focus and pushed other thoughts from his mind. Despite his mage status, Ketthan was still a Trevelyan, still a representative of his House as much as he was of the Circle. 

“Ah! Master Trevelyan! A pleasure!” 

Silas Ralf, lord of House Ralf, was a man so thin, any wind stronger than a breeze would bend his back as if trying to snap it, and Ket was shocked he had made the trek to the Frostbacks all the way from the Marches without breaking. Silver hairs formed in patches on his pale face, and his eyes peered from within dark sockets. His bony fingers grasped Ketthan’s palms with a strength of the undead, and he smiled with dark yellow teeth. “The pleasure is all mine, Lord Ralf,” Ket responded with a polite, fleeting smile of his own. 

“I have heard news of the tragedy that has befallen Ostwick Circle,” Ralf continued and his voice rasped against Ket’s ears like a cat’s tongue. “My condolences. Lydia was a fine First Enchanter. She did not deserve to become a casualty in this Maker forsaken bloodbath.” 

Ket shifted his weight ever so slightly from one foot to the other. “Your words are much appreciated. I pray that peace will soon be achieved, and then we may all focus on rebuilding our lives for the better. Enchanter Lydia will be greatly missed; the new First has quite the legacy to claim.” 

Ralf nodded in approval. “Hmm. That is so. Perhaps they should consider _you_ for the seat when the business with this nasty rebellion is finally over and done with.” 

The young mage’s heart all but stopped beating, an icy sheen of sweat breaking over his skin, and for a terrifying second he couldn’t breathe. “S-surely you jest, my lord,” he managed to pull his composure back together at the last second, hiding his cracking voice behind a soft laugh, “I am but a few months shy of twenty, I’m afraid I lack the experience or charisma to fill Enchanter Lydia’s shoes.” 

“One day, then, no doubt,” the old man replied with a smack of his nearly non-existent lips. “Your humility is telling, young man, for it is my understanding that you are not lacking in significant talent. And you come from good blood. I look forward to seeing how House Trevelyan and Ostwick benefits from your work in the Circle. Perhaps other mages will follow your example, when they are all finally back where they belong. Ah, but I see Lord Bham eyeing me, and if I continue to ignore him, I shall never hear the end of it. Maker be with you, young one.” 

“And also with you,” Ket answered quietly, watching as Silas Ralf hobbled away to converse with Bham and other nobles. He leaned against the wall, keeping his distance from the crowd. The Conclave was becoming a little chaotic now that many from all corners of Thedas had finally arrived, the Temple of Sacred Ashes swelling with worried nobility, devoted Templars, and loyal mages, all answering the call of the Divine to end the Mage and Templar War. All wanting to save face in the name of peace. The Conclave itself wasn’t scheduled to start for another week, giving more time for others to show up and voice their all too important opinions on things they had no way of understanding. 

The whole affair was _exhausting._

“Hey you!” 

A playful tap on his arm jerked Ket from his tired thoughts. Rinlyra grinned at him, holding a tray of bite-sized delicacies. “So, I highly recommend the crackers. The cheeseballs are legit, too.” She wore the humble leathers and skirts of an elven servant, her wild hair pulled back in a humble bun. This masquerade allowed her to eavesdrop on all kinds of interesting conversations, keeping an ear out for anything Ketthan might need to know for the upcoming Conclave. It also let her be near Ket without anyone taking much notice. When she smiled, Ket’s gaze drew to the little scar on her pink lip, and it held him there. 

He took a cracker which held a thin piece of meat, and almost spat it back out. Polite company forced him to swallow instead. Liver. Why liver? 

Her grin stretched all the way to her pointed ears. “Damn, that bad? That’s rich people food for ya. All looks, no taste.” She shifted the tray around so she could lean close to him, and Ket became very aware of her breast brushing against his arm. “Hey, under these lovely skirts of mine is a humble bottle of Lyrium Shine 5:49 that would be boring to drink all by myself. Don’t even say it; you totally want me to get you outta here.” 

“I wonder what gave it away?” he said with a smirk. With such a heavy presence of nobility and Templar alike, there was no need for anyone to keep a close eye on the mage. He easily snuck away from the crowd, following the trail of Rin’s red hair as she loosened it from her bun. 

\\\\\

They sat on the roof of the Temple and watched the people far below scurry about like ants around the camps that had been set up for those unable, or not important enough, to stay within the walls of the Temple itself. Rin sat close to Ket as he warmed the air around them, the wine they shared relaxing him enough to let the heat radiate gently from his body like a stove. With each deep sip, they talked of small, unimportant things, idle conversation that didn’t carry the weight of the Conclave’s purpose. It amused them both how close they had grown over the past few weeks since meeting up in Amaranthine and traveling to Haven, considering she had been serving his household since he was child. 

Yelling from below drew their attention back to the ground. A formation of Templars had gathered, most likely an inspection of some sort, standing straight and tall as the afternoon sun bounced blindingly off their silver armor. Their breastplates bore the crest of the Ostwick Order, gilded with gold, the traditional Templar flames bursting from the sword like sunbeams instead of fire, budding irises adorning its hilt. In front of them, a Knight-Captain closely looked at his troops as he barked orders, his long black hair flowing in the breeze, not one strand straying out of place. 

“I have _got_ to know what shampoo Khearan uses,” Rin remarked. 

“Pretty sure he just wakes up like that,” Ket replied. 

“Maybe it’s magic.” 

“Maker’s balls, _no._ Please don’t ever suggest something so dangerous ever again.”

“Weren’t you telling me that your Circle librarian has a crush on him? Or was it the other way around?” 

“I’m not allowed in the library anymore. Leandaros runs that ship tighter than a lay sister’s vows of chastity, so noooo idea.” 

Rin giggled and took another swig of wine. “Uh oh,” she said, tipping the bottle upside down. “I think we drank it all.” She crinkled her freckled nose, her cheeks slightly flushed with both cold and alcohol. “It was kinda gross, too.” 

“Well, what did you expect from something called _Lyrium_?” 

“Wanna go get some more?” 

Ketthan could never say no to a drink, no matter how “gross” it tasted. And he wasn’t too eager to return to the pit of lions just waiting for him to mess up his noble front and tear him to shreds. “Damn right I do.” 

“We’ll sneak around through the west hall to the kitchen. The servants will be on break soon before they start making dinner. Nobody will notice us at all.” 

The Temple itself was as large as any castle, a worthy shrine built on the very spot where the Hero of Ferelden had discovered the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Even the crowd of hundreds, if not thousands that had gathered for the Divine Conclave was not enough to fill most of the empty halls and so the pair managed to sneak their way toward the kitchen with no threat of discovery. 

Despite the dark emptiness of the Temple, Ket couldn’t shake the feeling that they should not be here. He bounced on his heels as he stood guard in the kitchen while Rin rummaged for more wine in the cellar. The fire in his belly flickered hot and restless, a burning sensation of sick dread. The air pricked at his skin with tiny but ominous bites. 

“Andraste’s scared taint, Antivan Sip-Sip, are you _serious!?_ In a _temple_ of all places!” 

“Rin, we need to leave.” The words spilled out of his mouth before Ket had time to form them, rushed with growing panic. That wasn’t natural static in the air; it was _magic._ Something was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. 

“Okay, coming, coming,” she said, shoving several bottles up her skirt, and then joining Ketthan back in the kitchen. She started when he grabbed her left hand and pulled her back out into the hall. _“Ow_ , hey, _OWWW!”_

She yanked out of his grasp, and he saw her hand had become as red as a mudcrab in a boiling pot. “Rin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t - !” 

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine,” she assured him. “No worse than taking a really hot bath. But are _you_ fine? Why’re you actin’ like a scared alley cat in a thunderstorm?” 

Before he could answer, a voice echoed down the hall, a piercing voice strained with desperation. 

_“Someone help me!”_

The pair exchanged glances, neither sure if they had actually heard something or if they had just imagined it out of the paranoia suffocating the atmosphere. Then came a scream, and Rin took off running toward the sound, wine bottles bouncing to the floor, and Ket had to dodge them as he raced after her.


	3. The Herald Awakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the Breach has stopped growing, Rin has to deal with her new reputation as Haven's hero.

The sun was warm, a gentle, yellow light seeping through the window to caress her eyelids. Rin closed her eyes tighter and dug her chin deeper into her blanket cocoon. “Please, Luey, just five more minutes,” she mumbled, but her voice was barely more than a mere breath, not quite awake enough to form actual words. She didn’t want to deal with the day just yet, even if her sister was getting married this afternoon. No doubt Shianni was already obnoxiously drunk, a bad habit that made her unsuitable for marriage despite her age, and it was something she _especially_ didn’t want to deal with right now. Her father would just nag her incessantly from now until the ceremony in order to make sure this day would be absolutely _perfect_ for Lue’ander. And then all the free time her sister had from then on that wasn’t taken up by her clingy alcoholic cousin would be taken up by her new husband, instead. Rin didn’t want to move from this bed ever again.

_“Snk!”_

That snore definitely wasn’t _hers._ She sat up quickly, opening her mouth to yell at whoever was in here to leave her alone for a few more minutes, _please._

Blinding pain shot through her body, and a deep gasp only made it worse. It took a few breaths, each of which seemed to crush and set her sides on fire at the same time before she understood that even breathing wrong was dangerous right now.

She wasn’t home, she wasn’t twelve, this wasn’t Luey’s wedding day, and she had apparently broken a rib or several. She could feel the stiff gauze wrapped tight around her chest beneath her tunic. Her eyes took in the strange hut, too many artistic pictures and trappings for a poor alienage hovel, and there was only one bed and an overwhelming amount of space compared to her old home.

Ketthan slept by her legs, resting his head on the bed from his spot on the floor. His arms were folded beneath his cheek like a pillow, and occasionally a soft snore passed through his plump lips, flicking a few strands of his hair. Rin’s face grew very warm, and even the tips of her ears burned a little. She wondered if he had been the one to wrap the bandages around her. She certainly wasn’t wearing any kind of breast band under her tunic in order to be bandaged properly. How scandalous.

He did look quite cute, sleeping like that. Oh, but that couldn’t be comfortable, though.

“Hey, Ket,” she said softly in attempt to rouse him, and her voice steadily rose when he didn’t answer her. “Ket. Keeeeet. Kitty-Ket…” She frowned. Scooting forward in the bed because stretching hurt, she started to poke his head. “Hey, wake up, you can’t sleep like that!”

She poked him harder and harder until she outright shoved him, and the mage rolled off his arms and onto the floor, hitting the hardwood loud enough to make her wince.

Yeah, he probably wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

“Party too hard last night?” she asked his unconscious form. She couldn’t very well leave him lying there, either. With a sigh and biting back the pain, she slid off the bed and shuffled over to him, careful not to make any sudden movements that would make her ribs hate her even more. Ket was tiny for a shem, she should be able to roll him back onto the mattress.

His body was deceptive. When Rin attempted to lift him by the shoulders, her ribs screamed and his body barely moved. “How are you so _heavy!?”_ she shrieked from both pain and frustration. She fought through the pain and tried again, but spots danced in front of her eyes and her head began to swim as her own ribcage started to crush her. “Okay, Ket, I can’t do this. I need you to wake up, at least long enough to get in bed. Come oooooooon, this isn’t funny, wake up, _wake up…!”_

The door opened, and Solas stepped into the hut carrying a small basket. For a moment that stretched far too long, he stood there, his gray eyes taking in the half-dressed elf leaned over and shouting at the unconscious mage. “Forgive me for barging in,” he finally said. “I didn’t think you’d be awake already.”

“And now he won’t wake up,” Rin replied, pointing at Ket.

“Yes, I’m afraid he completely drained his mana last night as we sustained you. And since there is a shortage of lyrium, he’ll need a full day to recover. Perhaps more. He’s quite a determined one, even when his ability is lacking. Here.” Solas placed the basket down on a table and swept the young mage up with such ease, like Ket didn’t weigh a thing, and laid him on the bed. Rin could only watch with wide-eyed wonder; it never occurred to her this lanky elf who smelled like wilderness could be so strong. She also couldn’t help thinking Solas looked kind of like a prince just then, gently laying his beloved princess down to sleep in safety.

“He should be much more comfortable now.”

“Thanks. It would’ve been pretty bad if he had to sleep on the floor.”

“As for you, I’ve brought some healing potions from Adan,” he continued, gesturing the basket. “They should help with your pain. If you have need of more, you only need to visit the apothecary. Adan is no healer, but he’s a fine alchemist. Just be mindful of his disagreeable disposition.” Solas paused, looking hard at her. “Are you feeling alright? That Pride demon really made short work of you, and you almost didn’t last the night.”

Oh, right, she remembered all that very clearly now. Not a memory she wanted to revisit, truth be told. Their attempt to close the rift at the Breach had attracted a Pride demon, a colossal monster that laughed with wicked deep-throated glee whenever it attacked. And it certainly had laughed quite a bit as it threw Rin around like a poor child’s ragdoll. She could feel it all over again: the sharp pain of its lightning whips snapping against her limbs, the crushing agony of its fist punching into her gut. The wards had taken _most_ of the damage, and it still _hurt._ Rin shivered, not wanting to imagine what she would look like now if hadn’t been magically protected. Probably little more than a dark stain on the crater floor. Oh, she just imagined it. Gross. Her imagination was running wild today.

“I’ve had worse,” Rin assured him as she stood up and winced. Solas immediately handed her a potion. Within the clear flask was a gentle green fluid, like the color of spring fresh after a rain. It was warm when she brought it to her lips, only slightly bitter and strangely refreshing. It soothed away her pain, tenderly stroked her ribs until they calmed down.

“One of those every few hours or so should keep the pain down,” Solas said, “however I don’t recommend moving around too much for the next few days, at least. Don’t do anything jarring.”

“Just my trial and inevitable execution to look forward to,” Rin remarked.

Solas grinned, and it caught her off guard because her comment wasn’t exactly something to smile at, especially out of amusement. Unless he wanted her dead, too. “You still don’t remember? Of course not, you passed out just shortly after sealing the rift and saving this village.”

“I did what?”

“You bear a Mark of power on your hand, and you closed the rift at the Breach. The Breach is still open, but it has stopped growing. It’s a victory, albeit a small one. So now you are considered a hero, perhaps even divine. The _Herald of Andraste_ they are calling you.”

As if it knew it was being talked about, the Mark, that odd green glow, emerged from her left palm. It skittered along her hand like tiny pins and needles, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had yesterday. It was an odd, uncomfortable sensation, like her hand had fallen asleep for too long, but nothing more than that.

“A hero, huh,” she muttered at her hand. That was certainly something new.

“I’ll take my leave now, and let you rest more.” Solas glanced at Ket on the bed, then back at her, as if just now realizing there was only one bed in this hut. He looked like he had a comment for that, too, but then he just stood there. Silent. And it dawned on Rin that he wasn’t even looking at her anymore, as if he had forgotten she was in the room. He stared past her, toward the dresser further back in the room, and his eyes narrowed.

“Uhhh… Solas? Yoo hoo…” 

He glanced at her as if she had only just now materialized before him. Then he smiled. “Feel better soon, _da’len.”_ He finally left, and behind him, Rin could see a crowd of people had gathered outside.

_What a weird guy._

Now that Rin’s ribs were no longer being spiteful, her stomach was able to voice its own discontent with a loud, low growl. Solas had brought her several potions that would last her the rest of the day, but no food. Of course, she remembered what Solas said about resting, and of course, she was going to ignore it. She was hungry, and it would be boring sitting here watching Ket sleep the afternoon away. After getting dressed, she threw the quilt over him so that he would stay warm. He was out like someone had dared him to outdrink a dwarf, and only the steady rise and fall of his chest assured her he was still alive. It made her stomach twist in a funny little knot knowing that he had driven himself into exhaustion just for her.

“Dummy,” she muttered at him. “I would’ve been fine. Probably.” She stroked his hair, like she used to do when they were just children, and her fingers brushed the knot growing where his head had smacked against the floor. Oops.

A chime and the sharp sound of something hitting the floor drew Rin’s attention away from the mage. The bell she had found in the ashes of the Temple’s remains had fallen off the dresser, and sunlight gleamed from its surface like bleached bone.

A dark chill oozed down Rin’s spine.

She had a dream while she was recovering, hadn’t she? A dark dream in a dark place, much like that place she had woken up in just after the Temple explosion, where Cassandra and them had found her. There was a figure in her memory, and she struggled to make out its features. It was a shadowy figure, too far away for her to see clearly, a large silhouette against the dark green horizon shaped like a person.

…or a large bird?

_CRASH!_

A massive black bird slammed into the window above the dresser, probably one of Leliana’s ravens, flapping its wings furiously against the glass. It cawed loudly in indignation, like it had important places to be and the hut had dared be in its way. Eventually, it figured out how to get around and flew off, raining a flurry of black feathers in the wake of its rage.

The bell was tied around Rin’s neck. She started at the realization, and it chimed in response. Sometimes, even she was scared how distracted she could be.

She couldn’t remember the dream anymore. Try as she might, the memory was no longer there. All she saw in her mind was an empty darkness.

Rin shimmied out the back window to avoid the crowd she had noticed earlier, careful to not strain herself and hurt her ribs more. The potion helped keep the pain to a dull roar in the back of her head, but it would not last very long if she kept moving around like this. Several trees grew around the hut, keeping her concealed from curious eyes.

Solas had not been exaggerating about being a hero, and the gathering of people by the door was much larger than what she had seen. They lounged, paced, conversed in quiet voices, recited stanzas from the Chant of Light, looked awestruck, impatient, angry. Rin slid into the shadows, and nobody noticed her.

Herald of Andraste. He said that’s what they were calling her, right? Whatever that was supposed to be.

Unlike the top of the mountains where the Temple had been located, it was still summer here on the lower slopes. The soft grass still held its vibrant green and teemed with colorful flowers and tall weeds. The warm air remained thick with humidity and the buzz of singing cicadas, but the wind did carry a slight chill to remind everyone that autumn was not far away at all. Already several trees were turning shades of red and gold, and leaves scampered almost playfully along the grass with the breeze. The Breach swirled lazily high above the frosted mountains, but its green glow no longer dominated the sky, now that the golden light of the sun had returned to its throne. So long as you didn’t look at it, everything seemed normal.

The tavern was warm with celebration, a quaint building that matched the homely mountain village. The frigid dread of yesterday had melted before the laughter and cheer, the clang of full mugs of ale slamming together, the tapping of feet dancing upon the wooden floor, the harmony of lute strings and vocals as the minstrel sang of the accomplishments of the Herald and her troops as if Rin had been a general in some epic battle.

“Truly our humble little village is blessed above all others!” a patron slurred to a crowd of outsiders who had either came here for the Conclave or pilgrimage, and immediately drew Rin’s attention the moment she walked in. He could barely hold himself up on the table, and she watched with eager eyes as she waited for him to tip over any moment now. “Aye, ten years ago, when I was but a lad, the Hero of Ferelden graced our village and liberated us from the clutches of a heretic cult, discovered the Urn of Sacred Ashes and brought the truth of Andraste back to the world!”

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. These shems couldn’t be serious.

“Ugh, ‘e’s been sayin’ the same thing over an’ over for the past three ‘ours,” the innkeeper muttered as she cleaned out a mug, and the ends of her brown hair flicked along her jaw as she shook her head in exasperation. “I’m just waitin’ for ‘im to fall off and break ‘is neck at this point.”

“Ha, that would be funny,” Rin grinned as she sat down.

“What’ll it be, love? Oh, but you lookin’ a bit peaked, aren’t you? Part of that big battle yesterday?”

“Yeeeah,” she answered with slight hesitation.

“Aw, poor thing. An’ so young and pretty, too! Tell ya what, dearie, nobody in Thedas can make a brisket sandwich like Maren can. That should make you right as rain again, it should. On the ‘ouse.”

Rin squirmed in her seat, surprised at this display of hospitality, and it made her ribs sting. “Uh, thank you… that’s so kind.”

The innkeeper shrugged as she turned toward the keg with a twirl of her frilly skirts, and filled the mug she had just cleaned with frothy ale. “The Breach may ‘ave stopped growin’, but that don’t mean it’s finished with us yet. An’ with this whole mage-templar war, well, we plain and decent folk gotta stick together, y’know? Humans, elves, all of us. So you just let me know if someone be givin’ you trouble ‘bout your ears. I’ll stop that nonsense with a quickness.”

Rin took the mug and wrapped her fingers around the cold glass. “My name’s Rinlyra,” she said because it seemed like a polite thing to do.

“Pleasure. I’m Flissa. I’ve been runnin’ this ‘ere tavern for ‘bout ten years or so now. Ever since the ‘Ero of Ferelden found the Urn, cleaned this place up a bit, seemed like a good opportunity to start a new life. Livin’ in a small town high in the mountains, servin’ good drink to ‘umble farmers and pilgrims, sure beats life in Denerim, that’s for damn sure.”

Denerim, ick. Rin didn’t say anything, however, didn’t want to talk about her own issues with that city. And as much as Flissa had probably suffered trying to survive there, no way a shem could possibly understand the suffering in that alienage.

She noticed some of the shems kept glancing her way, not even looking away when she met their eyes. They seemed nervous and apprehensive, fidgeting with their fingers and poking their friends, like her mere presence bothered them somehow. “Pay them no mind,” Flissa assured her. “Some folk ‘ere are very nervous ‘bout the Dalish up in the mountains, too nervous to notice you don’t ‘ave those weird markin’s on your face. Again, anyone give you any trouble, you come get me.”

Flissa left to order Rin’s sandwich, leaving the elf alone to mull over what she had just said, her thoughts enough to drown out the drunk guy in the back screeching about how Haven was the most blessed town in all of Thedas.

Dalish.

Most of the stories she heard growing up were all from Alarith, the handsome storekeeper every girl in the alienage had her first crush on. A few more years, and Rin might have been the first to successfully seduce him, so her prepubescent self had vowed. He had apparently been saved by the wild elves years back, and entertained the teens who longed for his attention with that same story. She heard more stories about the wild elves, and many more after that, so many it was difficult to tell which were real and which were just there to make them more interesting and freak the shems out at the same time. Luey used to be obsessed with the Dalish, often going to Alarith’s store to draw out of him every last detail of those barbaric creatures he could remember. Rin always thought it was a wasted opportunity; Luey had cared more about the elusive Dalish than flirting with someone living and breathing in front of her.

“There are Dalish here,” Rin couldn’t help commenting when Flissa returned with her sandwich.

The innkeeper nodded solemnly as she slid the plate to her. “They ‘aunt the mountains just beyond the village. Oh, they don’t normally mess with the folk ‘ere or the livestock, they are ‘igh in the peaks ‘cause they can’t handle the warmth. But you can ‘ear it, at night, the screamin’, sometimes an ‘owlin’ like a demon, especially when the wind’s picked up quite a bit, and most of all, the _smell.”_

“A smell?” Rin took a bite of her sandwich, soft bread mixed with tender meat and a savory sauce, all melting together in her mouth in a warm slice of heaven. Flissa was a very engaging storyteller. She would be rolling in gold if she wasn’t the innkeeper for some hick village.

“Like death it is,” Flissa said in a low voice as she began cleaning another dirty mug. “A perversion of the senses. Like somethin’ bein’ cooked that wasn’t ever meant to be eaten. The people ‘ere are safe enough, like I said. But the pilgrims. Those who come to visit the Temple, they sometimes wander off the path, y’know, an’ are never seen again. We get reports of missin’ folk all the time, folk who never made it to the Temple or back to town. An’ that’s when you smell it. The wrongness. And ‘ere the ‘owlin’ of a ‘unt gone well.”

Rin had heard stories like that before, too. There was definitely no shortage of savage Dalish tales, even in the alienage, no matter how much Alarith tried to assure them all that none of them were really the case. Dalish hunting and eating shems was a particular favorite, and her peers had taken special delight at the very idea, embellishing as much of that rumor as they could until the Dalish weren’t even recognized as elves anymore. She had, too, honestly. It went well with the teenage angst she had going on, and anything to make the shems uncomfortable.

Her hand throbbed again, and green light flowed from her palm to snake around her wrist, tingling all the way to her elbow, nipping and gnawing with little magical teeth. She definitely needed to find out how this Mark actually worked before –

The sound of a million pieces of glass scattering over the floor silenced the rest of the tavern when the mug Flissa held dropped from her hand like a stone. The song came to a scratching halt in the minstrel’s throat, making her choke a little. The drunk man fell off the table, finally, and he hit the floor with an ugly and heavy thunk compared to the light tinkling of the glass. No one bothered to give him a courtesy glance of concern.

They were _all_ staring at her.

“Um… hi?” Rin stood up quickly, ignoring the flaring pain in her sides, and took a few steps back. A whole room of shems had just snapped their necks to look right at her. She noticed there actually were a few elves among them, and that didn’t comfort her any.

“…’Erald,” Flissa breathed. “I… I didn’t realize – “

“It’s her. It’s the Herald,” someone whispered from within the crowd, and a whole chain of murmurs followed.

“She’s the one who saved us all.”

“Maker be praised.”

“I didn’t think the Herald of Andraste would be an elf.”

“Shush! Do not insult Andraste’s Chosen!”

“We are _blessed!”_ the drunk man cried reverently at the ceiling from his new spot on the floor, having not bothered to stand back up. “Haven and her children are truly _blessed!”_ And his loud cries of adoration excited the crowd even more. They started to advance on her, slowly, dozens of pairs of eyes wide like curious sheep.

“Um… I just wanted a sandwich…”

As the voices rose, Rin couldn’t take it anymore. She pushed against the door just as it opened, and her back slammed against another person. Her whole body went stiff when her ribs tried to stab her in heated protest; there had been jarring and then there was slamming and the potion couldn’t help her anymore. “Miss Rinlyra, there you are!” She recognized the thick Orlesian accent of Leliana.

“Oh goody, am I finally being executed?” Rin asked, whipping around to face her and biting back the pain at that terrible decision.

“What?” Leliana stared at her for a perplexed moment before she laughed like the tension at the tavern didn’t exist. The crowd stopped their advancement, as if the spymaster’s arrival had broken some kind of spell. “No, I’m here to take you to Cassandra. She needs to talk to you. I doubt she’ll execute you. I didn’t think you would be up and about already.” She tilted her head. “Are you feeling well? You look really pale.”

“Yeah, sure, I’m fine, let’s go see Cassandra, great idea.”

“Ah, as you wish then.”

Before she followed Leliana out the door, Rin grabbed her half-bitten sandwich from her plate, some brisket dripping down from the bread. “Thanks, I’ll pay for this later,” she promised, but Flissa still stared at her with deer-like glassy eyes and a face as ashen as a corpse. Nobody said a word as she departed, not even the devote guy on the floor.

“I kinda preferred it when they wanted me dead,” Rin muttered, taking another bite of her sandwich. The moment the once delicious food touched her tongue, however, she decided she wasn’t hungry anymore and tossed it into the nearest bush. “Shems are so weird. I do one thing right, probably, and they go from thinking I’m a mass-murderer to a hero.”

“Hm,” Leliana replied with a soft chuckle. “You sound just like your sister did when I first met her. Well, she had that same look in her eyes at least.”

Rin stopped dead in her tracks. The Mark flickered between her fingers, but she didn’t notice it at all. “My sister? I… how did you know?” 

Leliana turned around, regarding her with a gentle smile. Her hood was pulled back from the warmer weather, and the sunlight made her hair look like fire. A few freckles dotted her nose, cutely, like Luey’s, nothing like the explosion on Rin’s face.

“I knew who you were the moment you told us your name. I met Lue’ander ten years ago in Lothering, when I had been called by the Maker to join her crusade, to fight the Blight with her. We became very good friends after a while, and she spoke often and fondly of you. Ah, not so much spoke, but she did have a song for you. It was beautiful; it brought me to tears when I first heard it. Her voice was wordless, but I could feel the love she had for her sister. I’m glad to finally meet the person who influenced such a wonderful melody. It’s just too bad I didn’t get to meet you then when we went to Denerim back then.”

“I, uh, I was probably gone by then. Serving House Trevelyan.”

“Yes, I found several mentions of you when I was sifting through Trevelyan’s records. There were quite a few accounts where you are spoken quite highly of. Lady Eisa adored you, it seems.”

Rin shrugged. “Dad sent me there for my own good or something like that, build character or whatever. It wasn’t a bad gig, so I can’t really complain.” She even managed a smile that didn’t quite reach her golden eyes.

“To tell the truth, I sought you out so I could also speak to you in private. I need to admit something, something I don’t think I can tell anyone else.”

Leliana started walking again, a lazy stroll, and Rin caught up to her side. “Before we found you at the Conclave, I was questioning my devotion to the Maker, my beliefs. I didn’t understand it. This mage rebellion, the Templars disregarding their duty to protect the innocent, so many lives lost to needless bloodshed. I couldn’t understand how the Maker could allow His children to do this to themselves. The Chantry is falling apart at the seams, and people are losing their lives and their homes with no one to turn to. Now, the Divine, Her Most Holy, is dead. And the Maker does nothing. I pray and I pray, but the only answer is more bloodshed.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty messed up out there,” Rin agreed. “But bad stuff happens all the time. We just gotta roll with the punches, yeah?”

Leliana looked at her. “Do you believe in the Maker, Rinlyra?”

“’Rin’ is fine. And I guess I do. To a point.”

“Do you believe you are chosen, the Herald of Andraste like they say?”

“Aaaaaaaaaah, ha ha…” Rin trailed off, scratching her cheek. “If I am, there must be a mistake somewhere. I mean, Andraste could have picked literally anyone else.”

“I understand that feeling quite well, Rin. I have done so many things in my past, deplorable, even unforgivable things. I crawled to the Maker for mercy when I knew I deserved none. I was completely unworthy, and yet He called me to serve Luey, the Hero of Ferelden. Now He has called me to serve you, the Herald of Andraste. If the Maker has finally given us an answer, this is it.”

Leliana stopped, facing Rin, trapping the elf with her gaze. “Even if you don’t believe you’re chosen, I do. So whenever you have need of me, I shall be there. My services, my spies, all at your disposal.”

Rin fidgeted around, dead leaves crunching beneath her as she shifted her weight between her feet. “Um… sure. Thanks.”

“Come. I think we’ve dallied long enough. Patience isn’t exactly one of Cassandra’s virtues, as I’m sure we both know.”

“Really? I hadn’t really noticed that at all.”

Leliana burst out laughing, and Rin couldn’t help doing the same. It was a little comforting.

A little.

//

They could hear Cassandra yelling all the way from outside the Chantry, her resonating voice giving quite the verbal beating to whoever was on the receiving end. Chantry brothers and sisters hung their heads low or became very, very interested in whatever books they were looking at or concentrated harder on their prayers, all desperately trying to ignore the turmoil seeping out from the far back room appropriately named “The War Room”.

“Cassandra and Chancellor Roderick have been at it for two hours now,” a woman with a smooth Antivan accent said as she approached the arriving pair, shaking her head. “Both are as stubborn as stone.” She was a short, voluptuous woman, with brown skin a similar shade to Ket’s. Her dress had puffy golden sleeves, and her black hair was pulled back in a braided bun. A mole rested cutely by her dark lips. She carried a board that held stacks of paper and a dripping candle with one hand, and the other held a quill with a long feather that illuminated bright shades of green and blue.

“What are they fighting about?” Rin asked curiously.

“Mostly what to do with you, Herald. Chancellor Roderick is quite determined to bring you to justice, if you can call it that. Cassandra is doing what she can to keep him from dragging you out of here in chains.”

“Huh. That’s quite the change in tune.”

She chuckled. “You have left an impression on the people of Haven, to put it lightly. It seems most of them can’t blame you for the Conclave tragedy anymore, not after saving us from the Breach. Forgive me, Herald. I am Josephine Montilyet, it is a pleasure.”

“I requested for Josephine to come here as her diplomatic services would prove useful at the Conclave,” Leliana added. “Trust me, you will never find a better ambassador in all of Thedas. Josephine, this is Rin Tabris, younger sister to the Hero of Ferelden.”

“Yup, that’s me,” Rin said with a tight smile.

“The Hero of Ferelden, sisters…” Josephine glanced away, then down at her notes, tapping the quill against her chin in contemplation. “Yes, yes, we could use that, actually.”

Rin looked to Leliana for clarification, but the spymaster only shrugged and smiled. When the trio arrived at the door, she opened it just in time for the words to charge out:

“This is utter _blasphemy_ even you can’t deny, Seeker! The Divine has been assassinated, and yet Her murderer is worshiped as a chosen of Andraste!”

“She closed the rift and stopped the Breach from growing any further,” Cassandra shouted, her voice twisted and her scar pulsing with raw fury. “She saved us all! We should be thanking her, not condemning her!”

“She fixed a mistake she herself made to save her own skin,” the Chancellor shot back. “Maker, just how _blind_ can you people actually be?”

“Is this a bad time?” Rin asked good-naturedly, stepping out from behind Leliana, “because we can come back later.”

Chancellor Roderick glared at her; had his look been any sharper, she would have been stabbed right through the brain. His ridiculously tall hat of a Chantry clerk made him seem bigger than he actually was, his face heavy with wrinkles and red splotches of rage. “If there is any justice left in this world,” he sneered, “this _elf_ will be swinging from a tree in the Hinterlands as an _example_ to those who continue this misguided savagery they call a rebellion. Mark my words, _Seeker.”_

He shoved his way out the door, and with a yell, Cassandra unsheathed her sword. Everyone jumped back as it rang sharply through the air when she stabbed it into the table.

“And now we need a new map,” Josephine remarked, writing down notes on her tablet. “Perhaps several, our budget should have room for it.”

“Did that asshole just threaten me?” Rin demanded, pointing at the door.

“I apologize,” Cassandra said, her chest rising with each breath, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. “Ever since we returned from the Breach, that man has not given me a moment’s peace. The Chantry is desperate for a scapegoat, and Rinlyra is the perfect candidate. So, in desperation, I revived the Inquisition. The Herald is now in our custody.”

“Good decision,” Leliana said with a nod. “That should buy us some time, perhaps even bring the world back under control.”

“Hey, I’m standing right here,” Rin said loudly, capturing everyone’s attention. “Just yesterday, you all wanted to put my head on a pike. And I kinda get that. Then I sort of take care of this Breach problem, and despite it still being there, you all act like I’m the next Andraste or whatever. I’ve done quite a few things in my life, been threatened _a lot,_ everything from skinning to shark bait, but I’m pretty sure that just now was the biggest I have ever received. And you all, who wanted to kill me only yesterday, are now defending me. Which I do appreciate, don’t get me wrong. Does that sound confusing? It does sound confusing, doesn’t it? Because it _is.”_

She took a deep and her sides rattled with enough pain to make her scream. She didn’t care, and screaming didn’t seem like a bad idea at the moment.

“I know, Rin,” Leliana said gently. “So many contradictory things have happened to you, and I’m afraid we haven’t been much help. With the Inquisition of Old restored, we can protect you while we close the Breach for good.”

“My Andrastrian-ness only goes so far,” Rin snapped, folding her arms over her chest. “If people like that are gonna be breathing down my neck, I want nuthin to do with the Chantry anymore. You people can figure out this mess yourselves, shems are pretty good at it, I’ve noticed.”

“They won’t lay a hand on you,” Cassandra assured her with a firm tone. “The Inquisition is separate from the Chantry. We operate on our own, with our own power.”

“To put it simply,” Josephine added, “the Inquisition is its own entity of justice, an authority that answers only to the will of the Maker, bypassing the Chantry entirely. Eliminating the middleman, as it were. Cassandra, as a Seeker, has the authority to revive it when the world is thrown in chaos. So long as you remain with us, the Chantry can’t touch you.”

“I admit, we were rash when we brought you in for interrogation,” Cassandra continued, and her voice held a softness Rin didn’t think the woman was capable of. “We should have taken better care to ensure your innocence. For that, we apologize. The Mark on your hand is a sign of the Maker, and therefore proof of your innocence.”

“Well, thank the Maker for small miracles, I guess,” Rin remarked, and the Seeker had the decency to look a little ashamed.

Cassandra and Leliana explained the Inquisition in further detail, and as the Seeker launched into its history, Rin let her mind wander. On the one hand, if she had been executed, she would forever be remembered as the murderer of the Divine, slaughterer of hundreds of innocents and not-so-innocents. On the other, now she was considered a chosen one, an agent of the divine, touched by the Maker. Some wanted her dead, and others worshiped her.

She couldn’t decide which was preferable. 


	4. Bears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wandering the Hinterlands, helping out where they can, the small group of the newly-formed Inquisition find an ancient elven ruin with quite the caretaker.

The ground shook as a mass of enraged fur clawed its way into their small group. Rin realized with paling shock that her bolt embedded in its shoulder had only managed to piss the beast off even more. Cassandra lunged forward to drive her longsword into the soft of its belly, but the bear swung at the last second to knock a massive paw into her chest. She landed hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of her.

Birds scattered from the trees as the bear released a deafening roar when a bolt shot into its nose. “That should keep it occupied,” Varric remarked, and Rin couldn’t help giving Bianca a quick, longing stare. Her own crossbow was just a rickety, brittle thing, given to her by a merchant out of pity because she didn’t have the coin to replace the bow she had lost at the Breach.

As if dealing with mages and Templars fighting in the valley and cleaning out the bandits that had set up camps to take advantage of those fleeing from the bloodshed weren’t enough, now there were _bears._

“Cassandra, you have to move!” Ket yelled as fire rose from his feet to the tips of his outstretched hands, growing brighter as the spell surged with power.

“I’m not lying here for my health, boy!” the Seeker shot back but she rolled away as a cone of fire burst from Ket’s palms to engulf the bear in flames. A sound like no beast should make erupted from its mouth as it backed up a few steps on its hind legs before hitting the ground running. “Oh, shi – !” Varric and Rin yelled at the same time, leaping off the ancient stone wall they had been standing on just as the bear barreled right through it. Broken rocks shot in the air and scattered in all directions, and Rin had to cover her head to protect it as a few smacked against her bracers.

“We have to kill it,” Solas declared. “No creature should suffer so.”

“And it’ll attract more bears,” Varric added.

Cassandra was well ahead of the other four, racing after the bear as if the fight had just become personal for her. Rin was still marveled about how fast she could move in that armor, unhindered by its weight.

Her admiration was cut short, however, when the Mark zapped out of her hand. _Oh, no._ She stood there, shocked, only able to watch as the jade magic swirled higher and higher from her palm. _Oh, no no no, why now!?_

The bear was knocked back as if hitting an invisible wall. The air twisted into itself and green light tore out of it. “Cassandra!”

“I see it,” the Seeker replied, skidding to a stop and backing up as the others caught up to her.

In front of the bear’s burning body, a dark entity oozed out of the rift. They could only watch as black tendrils snaked over the poor animal, one after the other until the body was completely covered. They fought to stay on their feet as the ground shook again, and giant, jagged emerald structures of some otherworldly origin erupted from the earth. More demons crawled their way into reality, wisps the color of the Fade and tall, skinny terrors with long limbs and longer tongues. All staring at them with eyes that burned dark, hungry glee.

The bear stirred and then slowly stood to its feet. One of its eyes glowed a bright green, and black ooze dripped from its charred fur and muscle. Its lips curled back into a growl, no, a _sneer,_ teeth gleaming as inky liquid seeped from between the bone.

“Um, Chuckles,” Varric said, “you’re the Fade expert here. What exactly are we looking at? Did that demon just possess the _bear?”_

“Animal possession isn’t unheard of, but it’s not the ideal,” Solas replied. “The thinness of the Veil has teased these demons for too long, and now they are desperate. They will come through by any means necessary.”

“And these are _friends_ of yours,” Ket said with a chill to his tone Rin didn’t think someone like a pyromancer could be capable of. There was some context here she was missing out on, but this wasn’t the time to ask. Now that they apparently had a demon bear to fight.

Cassandra charged in, Solas’s defense wards shimmering around her in a sphere of magic. As graceful as a dancer, her sword slashed through one wisp demon. In the same motion, with a simple turn of her heal, her shield came around to bash into a lesser terror and drive it to the ground. She was thrown off her feet when another terror burst from the ground beneath her. She rolled back to her feet and lunged forward to stab it in the chest as it stood back up.

Ket caught a wisp-like demon with a whip of flame, holding it in place. Its shriek as it burned rang in the air, but a shot from Varric silenced it for good. With an agility that didn’t seem common for his kind, the dwarf leaped back and unleased several bolts to rain down on the demons further back. Rin felt herself sigh with jealousy. Her cheap crossbow didn’t have the mechanisms in place to fire more than one bolt at the same time.

She had disappeared into the shadows. Demons would keep coming unless she closed the rift, and for that, she couldn’t be noticed. Her role had nothing to do with fighting in this particular scenario.

But the bear wasn’t moving. It just stood there, observing the battle. She would have to sneak around it to get close enough so the Mark could close it.

Then the bear stared right at her. She hadn’t made even the slightest whisper of sound, and yet it knew exactly where she was. Terror froze her entire body as it slowly rose to its hind legs, towering over her larger than the mountain behind it. Her knees gave up holding her, and she collapsed hard against the ground. It roared, and she shook violently as ooze flew from its maw into her face.

_“Rinlyra!”_ The others couldn’t get to her. Several more demons had tumbled out of the rift, with a few more trying to squeeze through, clawing and snapping at each other. Within the next minute, they would be completely overrun.

Then her body snapped back into action. Grabbing her crossbow, she loaded a bolt by pure instinct alone, and shot the beast directly in the throat. It clawed at the bolt with a thundering roar, and Rin dove past it to get close to the rift.

The bear grabbed her. It flipped her over like a ragdoll, and pinned her in place with its paw on her chest. It growled, its rancid breath blowing her hair in all directions, its scent of charred flesh filling her nostrils, making her stomach viciously turn. The rift swirled directly above them, so close she could see the eyes of demons peering excitedly through the tear as they tried to squeeze their way into the real world. An excruciating sharp ring filled her ears, nails on chalkboard, metal scraping against cobblestone, and every vein in her head throbbed so hard, she was certain it was going to explode at any moment.

The Mark shot out of her hand in a beam of emerald rage, straight through the head of the possessed bear. A sickening, haunting scream of an otherworldly entity shook her at her very core. The rift pulled at her, and the Mark pulled it back, and for a moment the two wrestled for control in magical tug-o-war. And then something _snapped,_ like a spring, and green tendrils of the Fade dispersed as the air itself slammed the rift closed.

Chunks of bear flesh, ooze, and blood poured down on Rin in ghastly soup from the headless bear corpse that, Maker be praised, remained standing. Then Rin felt someone grab her arms and drag her from beneath it. “We got you, Sneaky,” Varric said as he pulled her a safe distance.

As the rest of the group praised her, they cut off when Rin rolled over and immediately vomited.

\\\

They made camp within Dwarfson’s Pass, and assigned shifts to keep an eye out for bandits, rebellious mages, rogue Templars, and more bears. Rin had bathed in a stream, the water shockingly cold for the season. She had asked Ket to warm it up for her, but the nerdy potato only responded with, “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t heat an entire stream for you, sorry.” At least the odor of bear flesh and demon ooze had washed away, even if she all but froze in the process.

She couldn’t sleep. The stars twinkled brightly, even as the Breach swirled around in the sky, hundreds and hundreds of them gleaming like distant diamonds upon dark silk, unfettered now that the damning hole had no power over them anymore. The meat of the possessed bear had been ruined by demon taint, so they had to settle for wild ram instead. Again. This made it the fifth night in the row, and while Rin had thought the meat delicious at first, now she was just sick of it. What she would give to take a few chickens from one of the farmsteads they passed, but Cassandra would hear none of it. “We are part of the Inquisition,” she had preached, “we do not take from those we are trying to help!” And took make matters worse, the Seeker had seemed to keep a sharper eye on her after that conversation.

_She definitely hates me,_ Rin lamented as she bit into a chunk of ram, a taste now so common that her tongue didn’t bother to register it anymore. They had reformed the Inquisition a little over a month ago, and that woman’s opinion of her hadn’t risen any higher than, “It’s good to see you are committed to closing the rifts for us.”

Finished with her tasteless meal, Rin lay back on the grass to stare back up at the sky. She lifted her left hand, holding it against the Breach pulsing softly in the distance.

Something had happened back there with the bear. She hadn’t mentioned it to the others because she wondered if maybe she was just imagining things. But, back there, when the bear had her pinned, she hadn’t activated the Mark. It had closed the rift _on its own._ It sounded crazy now that she had actually thought about it.

On top of that, this Herald of Andraste nonsense had only gotten worse in the past few weeks. Now that she was wandering the Hinterlands helping refugees and anyone else who needed an extra hand to lift the burden of life a little, there was no convincing these people she was anything but a saint sent by the Maker Himself. Just last week, she and the others had found a cult _worshiping_ the rifts, and even then they threw themselves at her feet when she closed the one housed in their castle like a shrine.

“You’ve defeated something they have begun seeing as a God,” Solas had said to her, and that remark made her beyond uneasy. In fact, that perfectly described a lot of what came out of his mouth sometimes, as if his entire purpose there was specifically to remind her that she had absolutely no control over all this power she had been given so suddenly.

Footsteps drew her attention to someone approaching. Ketthan sat down next to her, cradling a plate of food. “You’re not sitting at the fire,” he remarked.

“It feels good out here,” she replied as she sat up, grass clinging to her back and hair. “It won’t be long before autumn comes and then winter right behind it and everythin’ really gets miserable.”

Now that he brought it up, however, she did feel a slight chill. So she leaned back against him. He was warm enough for her, anyway. A shadow flew overhead, she noticed. A bird. Probably one of Leliana’s ravens reporting to the scouts scattered about the mountains.

“Hey, what happened out there?” she couldn’t help asking.

Ket paused in his eating, dangling a piece of bread just in front of his mouth. “What do you mean?” he asked innocently.

“Solas said something, and you got kinda scary about it.”

“I did? Huh. I didn’t even realize.” He set his plate down, leaning back against her as he also stared up at the sky. “We were just talking a few days ago about the Fade. I guess he likes to explore it while he sleeps, or something. Anyway, I thought it was kind of fascinating, really, since I don’t know anything about the Fade. Then he started getting weird about it, told me how he makes friends with spirits and shit like that. I don’t know, it just really bothered me, is all. Maybe it was something else…”

Rin nodded in understanding. Ket had been on edge lately, and she didn’t blame him. Bodies were still being dug up and moved from the Temple weeks after the explosion, and there was still no trace of Khearan. Neither of them could remember the explosion or that day’s events at all, but they did remember Ket’s older brother had been with them. Now he wasn’t.

No matter how much Ket insisted it was nothing to worry about, that Khearan always had a way of turning up, no matter how much he distanced himself from his own brother, Rin knew that Ket was anxious with worry. She had noticed it in battle today, and the many before then, the sheer brutality of the way he fought. He was getting better at combat, but still prone to making stupid decisions. Still, she didn’t have it in her to correct him, not right now.

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t really any of her business, anyway.

“I’m sure he made it out of there,” she said softly.

“Don’t.” He was not in the mood for being lied to. They both knew, not so deep down, that they had been the only survivors due to some weird twist of fate. Her hand covered his, and one of his fingers hooked around her own. Neither of them seemed aware of it.

“You know, I don’t remember my Harrowing,” Ket spoke up, breaking the gentle silence. Rin had no idea where this was coming from, but she stayed on the subject.

“That’s the thing where apprentices become official mages, right?”

“Yeah. I was seventeen. I was kind of excited about the whole thing, too. Finally, I got to prove myself to the rest of the Circle. But when I woke up, I couldn’t remember anything. When I told Khearan, all he said was that I had passed, and that’s all that mattered.”

Ket picked up his plate. The ram’s meat had gotten cold, so he only picked at it. “I don’t remember my dreams. It’s how it’s always been. No matter how many times I told the enchanters at the Circle, they assured me it was normal. Not everyone remembers their dreams, so it’s no big deal.”

“I thought mages could control the Fade and stuff,” Rin interjected, sitting up straight in confusion.

“Um, we can’t actually _control_ it, not exactly. But we can influence it better than non-mages. Some of us can even do like what Solas does, walk in it and explore and stuff. So long as you keep an eye out for demons. I guess when he went on and on about all the things he saw while he was there, I got, I dunno, maybe kind of jealous? I feel like the Fade is this huge secret everyone knows about except me.”

“Well, you’re not a dwarf or a Tranquil, so you do obviously dream,” she assured him. “And dreams are not all they’re cracked up to be, anyway. You think you have all this money or you’re gettin’ a good lay, and then just as everythin’ starts to get awesome, you wake up to find out none of that actually happened.”

“That does sound like it would suck.”

“Oh, yeah, the Fade sucks big time. Trust me, you’re not missin’ anything.” Her tone was light-hearted, but her lips didn’t even twitch in a smile. How many memories had she relived over and over again when she slept? How many of her deepest desires played out before her before she woke up and discovered the lie?

What kind of person wanted that over reality?

They sat in silence for a long time, lost in their own thoughts, still holding the other’s hand.

\\\

There was an elven ruin just south of where they camped, their whole purpose of coming to Dwarfson’s Pass to begin with. Solas could barely contain himself, moving ahead like a giddy schoolboy determined to show his friends something super cool. “We don’t have _time_ to lurk about in ruins,” Cassandra had complained in disgust, but Rin had managed to convince her that checking things out couldn’t hurt anything, especially since they were already in the area. Rin even kind of liked the idea of exploring some ancient rocks her ancestors had left behind.

They took off in a run, however, when they noticed the smoke rising from the treeline beyond the hill. The landscape below was ringed with fire, broken stones of what looked to be a collapsed temple of sorts sitting among burning trees and blackened grass. A person with rather bad posture was having a difficult time blasting ice magic at a demon that looked be made of lava, ice beams bouncing off its molten skin with little impact. The mage’s wards wavered with each hit from the demon’s fire attacks.

“Rage demon,” Solas said. “The Veil is getting thinner.”

“And this is a bad thing, right?” Rin asked.

“In theory.”

Launching down the hill, they made short work of the demon. Before it could realize what was happening, it was stabbed by Cassandra’s sword, and shot up with bolts that pinned it in place. Then Ket shot its head off with a fireball, a well-placed and effective hit, until the creature and the ground beneath it blew up in a bright cloud that knocked them all back. The explosion was only a small one, but would have been horribly damaging to anyone who stood too close. Good thing Cassandra had already moved, and her blanched face mirrored that same thought.

“Note to the rest of the party, do not allow Ketthan to use fire magic against a rage demon,” Solas declared, making said mage glare at him with flushed embarrassment.

“Elgar’nan’s nutsack,” came the impressed whisper and they all turned to see a short, old elven woman standing behind them. She whistled low as she stared at the bright fire diffusing above. Then she glared at the group as if seeing them for the first time. She looked like a walking, wrinkly corpse with strange dark markings on her face, elegant small symbols tattooed along her forehead and cheeks. Her eyes were clouded over, and her lips had long since vanished with the rest of her youth. She maybe reached five feet if she stood on her toes. In fact, her lack of beard was the only difference between her and a really old dwarf.

Her feet were bare, actually, cracked open and caked with dried blood. Rin had heard once that the Dalish of the plains in Orlais often went barefoot, the grassy flatlands more ideal for it than rugged mountain terrain.

_“Bah!_ I’m getting too old for all this nonsense! Are you quite done yet trespassing on my land? Away with you lot, away!” She shook her staff at them, snowflakes still dancing around its branchy head.

_“Andaran atish’an, hahren,”_ Solas said, stepping forward in front of the group. “We are merely passing through, hoping to access the ruins just beyond.”

“Dread Wolf use you as a chew toy if you think for a second that I’m going to let the bunch of you into my home!” she shouted, and then pointed her staff at Rin, who jumped back out of surprise. “You don’t think I don’t know who _that_ is? _Oh_ , but dear old D’raelen has left her clan for some dusty forgotten ruins, she has _no idea_ what is going on in the world, she _doesn’t pay attention_ because she’s just a senile old woman who can’t possibly understand the significance when _one of the People has become a shemlen god._ BAH! That’s what _I_ say to all that!”

“You say these ruins are your home?” Solas pressed, despite Cassandra’s and Varric’s frantic gesturing to drop the subject and leave the old elf be.

“Damn straight I have,” D’raelen snapped. “And _you!”_

Solas blinked. “Me?”

_“Yes!_ Don’t you understand Common?” And she reached up to stab her finger into his chest. “Shemlen _and_ a durgen’len!? What kind of company are you keeping these days, pup? No shemlen in _my_ ruins, absolutely not, I would rather – !”

D’raelen stopped short, and the rest of them realized she was staring at Ket. The young mage glanced at the others before he also realized he was being stared at.

“Oh. _Ooooooh._ But this is _different.”_

She yanked Ket’s down by the collar until he was at her level, then placed her hands on his face, turning his head this way and that as if examining a horse. “Mmmmmm. Yes, _yes,_ this will do very nicely. I take it back, shemlen have improved since I last tangled with their kind. Such magnificent potential. Such _fine_ affinity.”

“I kinda feel like we’re witnessing something no eyes should be seeing,” Varric whispered to Rin, who nodded. “I’m definitely using this moment in a book sometime.”

“Fine,” D’raelen said, letting Ket’s face go so suddenly he staggered to keep his balance. “As a boon for having saved my life, or whatever just happened, I’ll let you in these ruins you so desperately want to see. Come, come now!”

They followed the old elf to the temple, discovering that it stretched further deep within the mountain just behind them. With a wave of D’raelen’s hand, torches along the wall lit with jade fire they descended down into the earth. “And back underground we go,” Varric muttered with a sigh.

“You are welcome to wait outside if that’s your preference,” D’raelen snapped from up ahead.

“I meant no disrespect, madam. Your home is quite lovely.”

_“Bah!”_

Cassandra’s mouth twitched in amusement.

Rin noticed peculiar artwork decorating the walls, a style she had never seen before. Art, especially ancient pieces sometimes carved out of the very walls they had been painted on, was a particularly dangerous business and only the ballsiest of smugglers dared deal with that kind contraband. “Is this your work?” she asked, unable to tear her gaze away.

_“Da’len,_ do you honestly believe these knotty tree root hands of mine are capable of holding a brush? Don’t be stupid. These paintings were here long before I showed up.”

“And when was that?” Solas inquired politely.

“Who knows? Certainly not crazy, ancient D’raelen who has probably been here since the days Shartan himself walked these lands! Not much further now. Hurry up there, boy! Quicklings, not a damn quick thing about them, except when you’re trying to have a good night.” And Ket yelped when she swatted his backside with her staff to make him walk faster.

These pictures kind of creeped her out the longer Rin stared at them. The more steps she took, the more intimidating they became, dominating the temple walls like a starless midnight. All shadows with bright green eyes staring at her from a darkness that reminded her too much of her dreams lately.

That dark massive figure had been in her dream again last night, too. She no longer lived through fantasies of treasure or attractive men, just a bleak darkness staring at that mysterious creature. Watching. Waiting. And each night, it came just a little closer to her. A few more nights, and it’ll be close enough for her to see its eyes maybe. She never remembered the dream when she woke up, but deep in her heart she _knew_ it was there.

They looked kind of like birds.

She stopped short when one particular illustration caught her eye. A dark figure of an elf, most likely, judging by the long ears, hunched over. Above him or her, two birds hovered, unmistakably ravens, and their downturned beaks gave an impression of pecking at him. “That’s Dirthamen, a depiction of a time when he was separated from his Twin, Falon’Din,” Solas spoke up from behind her. “As he searched for his brother in the Fade, the ravens Fear and Deceit tried to trick him and make him fall into despair.”

“They seem to be doin’ a pretty good job of it,” Rin remarked.

“True. Legends often say he did not give in to despair even once. And yet here is this.”

“Did he ever find his brother?” she inquired as they continued walking. “Accordin’ to legend?”

“He did indeed,” Solas answered. “Though sometimes a happy ending doesn’t necessarily mean a good ending.”

“Huh?”

“Here we are,” D’raelen announced loudly before Solas could clarify. “Alright, boy, open her up.” They stood before a massive door, distinguishable from the wall only because of soft lines that swirled in a door shape, arching out like magical branches. With the light of the veilfire, it looked like it was pulsing.

“Who me?” Ket pointed at himself.

“Why did you think I brought you down here? For the company? _Bah!_ ” she snapped impatiently. “My magic isn’t the same as it used to be, I need a younger mage with better talent to open this up for me. You think I’m going to ask those warmongers outside? BAH! I’ve been waiting months for some sucker with a decent measure of talent and rather pleasant on the eyes to try instead. I even summoned that Rage demon just to lure your kind-hearted self here.”

“You _what?”_ Solas exclaimed.

“Oh, don’t act all self-righteous on me. You’re here now, and there’s something within I know you want as much as I do. Go on, boy. Give it your best shot.”

Cassandra huffed in disgust, and Varric struggled to keep from laughing. Rin had no idea what to think other than she wanted to be just like this cantankerous old coot when she grew up.

“I’m just a pyromancer,” Ket said, hesitating, and ducked when D’raelen swung her staff at him again.

“You’re lucky you got your talent going for you because you’re significantly lacking everywhere else,” she snapped. “You just need the _power,_ boy. The door will do the rest.”

“Um… okay.”

Red light like fire glowed around Ket’s feet, rising slowly towards his hands as he concentrated on the door. Rin sat on a stone and watched with fascinated eyes. This spell wasn’t like his offensive ones; it was a spell gathering all his power, all his will, surging around his body for his bidding. The smell of woodsmoke began to perfume the air.

“What are you waiting for, boy?” D’raelen yelled. “Open the damn door already!”

“I’m… trying!” he shot back, straining to keep his concentration.

“We’re not back at Arlathan, boy, I don’t got forever here.”

“I just need to concentrate.”

“Concentrate? On what!?”

“Just… a damn moment…”

“ _It’s a door!”_

“Shut! _UP!”_

A massive column of fire erupted from Ketthan’s arm, slamming into the door, and spraying hot flames and blinding light in all directions. When the fire finally dissolved, all that was left of the door was smoke and a pile of glowing stones.

“Excellent. Thank you,” D’raelen said good-naturedly walking past him as if something spectacular didn’t just happen. “Concentration, bah! You’re a Creators-damned _pyromancer_ , all you need to do is just get pissed off enough.”

The others stared at Ket who just stood there in complete shock with his arm still outstretched. “What just…?”

Rin gently lowered his arm for him. “Hey, you did good,” she said with a bright smile. “Maybe now she’ll get off your nuts.”

“But I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he protested in a very quiet voice.

“Like the old gal said, Matchstick, you just needed to be a little pissed off is all,” Varric added, patting the young mage’s shoulder. “Now we can move on with our lives, thanks to you.”

“Though _I_ personally would appreciate it if you didn’t blow the place to smithereens,” Solas pointed out. “There is much history here that we should strive to preserve, after all.”

“I can’t remember the last time I have absolutely wasted away an entire afternoon,” Cassandra groaned.

The room beyond the melted door opened out to wide, spacious area. At Emmalath’s gesture, all the torches lit up with veilfire, and Rin gasped with awe. Every inch of the walls were filled from floor to ceiling with illustrations depicting elves, halla, ravens, bears, and other forest scenes relative to the Dalish of the mountains, scenes of old days before war, before mortality. Crystal formations and mineral veins shimmered in the light of veilfire between and within the paintings, making the art come alive before her very eyes. The light itself was the softest, gentlest green of spring, a time of fertility and growth. It smelled sweet and tender, like flowers in bloom. There were no treasures here, no ancient relics, just a sacred memory of a distant past.

_Nothin’ the elves of today have ever created could hope to match this beauty, this sincerity. This is what my people used to be, and now we are just pathetic imitations._

“I wonder if this place once belonged to the Ba’ralin Clan before they were driven to the higher peaks,” Solas mused out loud. “No, perhaps another that left the Hinterlands altogether long, long ago.” He sighed with deep lament. “If we had the time, I could take a short nap and find out.”

“Which we don’t,” Cassandra reminded him, though her voice had lost its sharp edge entirely as she looked around with as much fascination as the rest of the group, turning to take in all the splendor that lay before her eyes.

_“Da’len,_ come here,” and it took Rin a moment to realize D’raelen was talking to her, gesturing her with a gnarled hand.

“Yes?”

“Do you see that?” the old elf pointed to something embedded in the wall. It was a piece of rock lodged tight in a crack in the stone interior. “Get that out for me.”

“What’s the magic word?” Rin teased, but all that earned her was a swat on the head with that damning staff and a harsh reminder not to talk back to her elders. She dug into the crack with a dagger, chipping away until the rock popped out and landed in her hand. The rock was actually very smooth, and when she turned it over, a shimmering black glyph stared up at her.

“It’s a rune. So?” 

D’raelen was in her face. Her eyes were no longer cloudy, but vibrant and alive, just as she had been once long ago. They were green, too, a harsh alarming color. Her hand was surprisingly strong as she clasped Rin’s own, pressing the rune tight into her palm.

“You are a child of the People, even if your bare face says otherwise,” she rasped. “When you find yourself caught in the midst of forces you don’t understand, understand this always. Don’t allow yourself to be distracted by that which doesn’t matter.”

“There is an elven Artifact here.” Solas’s voice cut into the atmosphere, the room’s shape amplifying his words and making Rin jump. “Do you mind if I activate it, _hahren?_ It will strengthen the Veil in this place.”

“Yes, yes, do what you please with that old, useless thing,” D’raelen snapped as she hobbled back to the group. “But don’t you dare touch anything else in here, the hidden treasure is mine to take pleasure in discovering, I won’t have any of you _em’len_ messing with my life’s work, you hear? Except you, boy. _You_ may touch _whatever_ you please.”

Rin laughed at Ket’s mortified face, and couldn’t stop even as the others stared at her. For the moment, she enjoyed her mirth, trying to force the old woman’s words out of her mind.

Runes were not often her type of contraband, but she had come across a few before. Curiosity had her investigate them further, as they proved useful for enchanting her weapons and armor, making it easier for her to complete her runs. She had recognized the glyph in her hand immediately, because the books she read on the subject (that hadn’t put her to sleep) insisted it existed in myth only.

_Force._


	5. A Storm is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ser Barris tries to keep together the last remnants of the Ferelden Order, a certain Knight-Captain is recovered. Rin doesn't elf well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, we are back on track! I suppose I do have some explaining to do. Last month, tragedy struck my family. I spent some time in my hometown, comforting where I could and repairing some relationships that had fallen apart. When I came back, I had a lot of catching up to do. And then, well, I had a bit of writers' block. I knew what I wanted to do for this chapter, but I wanted it to be GOOD. Some very important scenes are coming up in the next few chapters, and I don't want to do them a disservice by rushing. I thank you all for sticking by with me so far. Here's to a new start for Tuesday updates!

_“I don’t want you to go.”_

_His words, meek and frightened, surprised them both. Khearan paused tightening the saddle on his horse to stare down at the child. Ketthan rarely displayed any kind of affection or attachment, especially not toward him, and yet the young mage had an expression of absolute misery as he gazed up at his brother. Khearan gave him a gentle smile._

_“I won’t be gone long, kiddo,” he assured him, kneeling down and gently petting the ginger hair. “A few months at most. When I get back I’ll take my vows to be a full-fledged Templar, and we’ll be able to live in the Circle together.”_

_Ketthan’s green eyes brimmed with tears, another rare show of emotion. “I don’t want to be a mage! I wanna live at home with you and Lahra and Mother, not in some stupid Circle!”_

_“I know. But we have to do this. The Chantry says so.”_

_“The Chantry is stupid, too!”_

_Flames flickered from the boy’s clenched fists and steam rose from the tears he struggled to hold back. Khearan pulled the child to him, ignoring the warning signs of emotionally charged ignition as he stroked his hair. “Remember, Ketthan, you are a child of House Trevelyan first and foremost,” he chided gently. “You can’t say things like that. The Chantry’s only doing its best to protect us all.”_

_Ket snorted into his armor. “Like our House needs anyone’s protection.”_

_He laughed. “That may be so, but we aren’t invulnerable. We all must work together. Do you remember reading about the Blights in your history lessons?”_

_Ket sniffed. “Yeah.”_

_“There’s a Blight happening in Ferelden right now. That’s why I have to leave. Trevelyan is offering to house the refugees coming over from across the sea because there’s too many for Kirkwall to take. We can’t just send them back. Do you see now what I mean about working together? If we don’t, all those people will die, and the Blight may cross over to the Marches.”_

_“…I guess,” Ket admitted reluctantly. He pushed away from Khearan, rubbing his nose, pouting but much calmer. “But I don’t get what that has to do with you leaving.”_

_The older brother sighed. “Duty might be a little difficult for you to understand right now, but you will in time. You’re a Trevelyan; you’re not like the other mages here. Things will still be expected of you, things that aren’t normally expected of common people.”_

_“Is that why they keep staring at me? I don’t like it, it weirds me out.”_

_“You’re also new. They’re probably just curious. I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends here. You’ll see. I’ll be back before you know it.”_

_He smiled and Ket managed a slight smile back. “You better.”_

* * *

 

It was an old memory from long ago playing out, shadowy figures moving through a fog of raw emotion. Memories were strange like that, mere thoughts mimicking mundane moments of time. In the Fade, they swirled around like elfroot vapor, difficult to see and impossible to hold onto.

Just like the chunky crimson stain on the side of this mountain. Poor sod certainly had difficulty holding all his bits together. How embarrassing it must be to have one’s insides exposed so horrifically like that. Blood and chunks of flesh dripped almost wantonly down the stony wall to pool in a gory soup mixed in the dirt.

_Haha, so hilariously disgusting, isn’t it?_

So it wasn’t alone. Not like anything was truly ever alone in the Fade. Something was always watching. Something always needed to feed. The disembodied voice grated against the airless atmosphere, and it was aware of creatures gathering above, lining up on floating branches that had no trees to support them. Black things like shadows with glowing green eyes cawed and growled and snapped at each other.

_Why do you linger, little soul? Doesn’t it hurt?_

It did hurt, actually. It was a painful struggle to keep itself from dissolving like vapor, little more than smoke of consciousness to be consumed by the Fade. Clinging to its own existence was like clinging to bare glass.

_Poor little thing. You should move on, go toward the light, the side of the Maker, the great Beyond, the blissful world in the clouds. Where, oh where, has the Guide gone? Why has the Guide abandoned the dead?_

The voice scraped like a thousand tiny needles, digging, digging, digging into its awareness like a nibbling worm. _The Guide! The Guide! Where is the Friend to the Dead!_ a chorus of cawing and screeching sang over and over. Their words showered down in a storm of feathers, like daggers trying to shred away the last tendrils of its awareness. Holding onto the last shards of its existence was like touching pure electricity.

The landscape warped and twisted upon itself, the Fade squishing and stretching until it became a stony room with no windows. It was cold in here, and damp, somewhere deep underground, and it could even remember what moisture rolling down its skin felt like. Only a ball of magic floating toward the ceiling lit the room, high above a single bed where someone lay strapped to it. Then crimson began to seep from the deep cracks of stone, dripping, dripping, running now, and there were meaty bits mixed in like a stew, pieces of those sick bastards, filling up the floor, filling up the room.

“Do you remember now?” A soft voice inquired, a voice like the gentle tinkling of silver bells. “Do you remember, little lingering soul?”

 _I don’t want you to go._ The meek words of a tiny voice brought every piece of him back in place, solid and sturdy as if he were still alive. “Not yet,” he growled and his words manifested a greatsword of pure silver in his hand. “I have no intention of going anywhere just yet.”

Footsteps glided lightly across the floor, creating swirls of crimson and raising a coppery smell in the air. A slender elf twirled around him in a whimsical dance, a slip of a girl, the ends of her hair blacker than Fade shadows sweeping along her jaw. She smiled, and he couldn’t see her eyes. “You are infuriatingly stubborn, you know that?” she sang.

“If you’re trying to allure me, demon, you’ve chosen the wrong form,” he shot back.

She stopped, her back to him. “Demon?” Then her head tilted to peer over her shoulder, her neck twisting at an impossible angle. “Demon? _Demon? IMAGINE THAT.”_

She burst out laughing, a high-pitched abomination of mirth, a sound that no innocent maiden could possibly make, no one with any shred of sanity. It was the laughter of one shut away for far, far too long, a laughter that vibrated in his skull until his teeth chattered. Feathers rained down on him again, feathers of no raven he had ever seen, and he slammed his blade deep into the floor to keep from losing himself again. The Fade would not have him. No _knife-ear_ would have him.

The feathers now only tickled and then they disbanded altogether in a harmless wave. For a moment, the elf’s tiny lips curved down in a deep frown, as if she were heavily irritated about something. “You are infuriatingly stubborn, aren’t you?” she growled. Then she smiled brightly. “I think I like you. I’ve always believed your kind was far more suitable.” She giggled again. “But what do I know? What do _I know_ indeed?”

She glided up to him, such a small thing. It was difficult to tell with elves, but she couldn’t have been more than an adolescent. “The way your kind guards your secrets more precious than gold. And you have so many, _many_ delicious little secrets, little cherry secrets just ripe for the picking.”

“I have no intention of giving you any secret of mine for whatever you’re trying to offer.”

“Oh, oh, but you see, that’s the funny thing, I _already_ _know all of them,_ stuuuuuupid.” She drawled out the insult like a term of endearment, and clasped her hands together against her tiny chest. “Ah, the way you slaughtered all those poor, poor people like dumb beasts because of what they did, that touched my heart, you know. I can relate a lot, actually. Little brothers must always be protected, shouldn’t they? I wonder how far you’d go if that sweet little brother of yours - “

The greatsword came down on her skull before he could form a thought, slicing her completely in half, and that unnerving grin remained on that little elf’s face just before she exploded in wet globs of inky darkness. He knew a threat when he heard one. The room vanished instantly, and he was back in a jagged, black landscape filled to the brim with that delirious cackle.

When the voice returned, it was no longer melodious bells but the grating caw of ravens weaving along the giggling like dark lace.

_You and I are very compatible, aren’t we?_

* * *

 

“Ser Barris! Ser Barris!”

Without a response, his office door slammed open and Templar Riley, one of the young pups recruited only a few months ago, came running inside. If not for more pressing concerns, such as a hole in the sky and a whole legion of dead Templars, Delrin Barris would have reprimanded the troop something fierce. His amber eyes regarded Riley impatiently, and his lips set in a dark line on his deep brown face. He was in no mood for pointless interruptions.

Templar Riley seemed to realize his place and immediately straightened. “Ser,” he said in much more professional tone, saluting, but his chest still heaved for air and his arm shook against his breastplate. His beige cheeks glowed with a heavy blush. “The Knight-Captain, Ser… he’s awake.”

The quill dropped from Barris’s dark hand. His search for other surviving Templar platoons would have to wait. “Bring water and lyrium,” he commanded as he rose to his feet, and the young Templar scurried off. Barris’s heart beat rapidly as made his way down to the barracks where they had been keeping the Knight-Captain they had found half frozen in the snow.

Khearan Trevelyan. Maker, that man had a reputation covered in blood, whispered from one terrified Templar to another from one end of the Free Marches to the other end of Ferelden. A particularly popular story was how he had evoked the Right of Annulment of Ostwick Circle by himself some five or so years ago, and no one, not mages and not even Templars, had been safe from that bloodbath.

All because of one mage.

Barris didn’t put much stock in that story, no doubt something to make a frightening man even more terrifying in the wide eyes of gullible recruits. Nevertheless, the rumors sparked and spread like wildfire the moment the captain’s unconscious body was carried into the keep. Even though he was completely comatose, the younger troops wanted very little to do with him as possible as if he would suddenly attack them in his sleep.

Barris had to admit the man had a _presence_ to inspire such fear _._ He was taller than his own six-foot-two height with an impressive mane of long black hair, and dark eyes that seemed to shine red in certain lighting. Crimson tattoos that looked Nevarran in design had been etched deep in his elegant bronze features from his face to the rest of his body. Barris knew that the Trevelyan family were actually Nevarran in origin, and it was customary for Nevarran warriors to decorate their skin.

The Knight-Captain had been cleaned and properly taken care of as he lay unconscious in the keep, and Barris could still smell the blood on him, as thick and heavy as if he had just bathed in a tub filled with gore. It was not a literal smell, but a kind of smell that only those whose hands were forever stained could recognize.

It made Barris uncomfortable. It reminded him of his own regrettable accomplishments.

“Knight-Captain Trevelyan,” Ser Barris greeted, crossing his arm over his chest in a sharp salute the moment he walked in the room. “I am Knight-Lieutenant Delrin Barris. I welcome you to our keep, Ser.”

Khearan sat in the bed, holding his head like it greatly pained him. Luckily, Riley was a quick-footed one, if a bit nervous, and the young Templar placed water and lyrium on the table next to the bed while not taking his eyes off the captain. “Where am I?” the captain demanded, his voice hoarse and strained and shaking with each syllable but no less commanding.

“The Hinterlands region of Ferelden,” Barris explained as he dismissed Riley with a wave. “Here, Ser. Lyrium.”

The bottle almost dropped to the floor when the captain snatched it out of Barris’s hand and drank the entire potion in one gulp. “Maker be damned,” Khearan growled with a shake and a deep breath. “That was the most bloody awful nightmare I’ve ever experienced. That felt way too fucking real.”

“Perhaps lyrium withdrawals are beginning to set in, Ser,” Barris pointed out as he handed him a cup of water. “You’ve been unconscious for about two days now. You were one of the few survivors of the Conclave explosion.”

Khearan lowered the cup from his lips. “Explosion?”

“Yes, Ser. Hundreds died, mages, Templars, half of our leadership including Her Most Holy, all gone. I’m afraid we’re all that’s left of the Ferelden Order. I’ve sent out ravens for the statuses of other branches, but I’ve yet to receive any response.”

For a long moment, the captain didn’t say a word. Barris waited patiently, giving time for the information to sink in.

“Heh.”

The chuckle caught Barris by surprise, and Khearan calmly sipped some water as if drinking afternoon tea. “And nobody saw this coming?” he remarked. “Fools. Her Most Holy was a great woman but, tragically, naive.”

“Ser?” This certainly wasn’t the reaction Barris had been expecting. Not from someone whose family was reputed to be one of the more pious and devoted to the Chantry. He wouldn’t be surprised if Khearan was merely withholding his emotions, but his tone was so _chilling._

“What of the other survivors?” the captain demanded. “You said I was one of the few.”

“One other is a suspect, Ser. An elf.”

Khearan cocked an eyebrow and his lips twitched as if something amused him. “A scapegoat. They truly think an _elf_ would be capable of orchestrating a mass murder of this scale?”

“That’s what the rumors say, Ser. But they also say she has a strange power. She might not be just an elf.”

“Any others?”

“They only speak of this one, Ser. If there are other survivors, I guess they are not as important.”

“Hmm.” He took another sip of water, his dark eyes focused on far away thoughts. “We’ll keep an eye on that situation, then. The Divine is dead and the people are desperate. That’s going to escalate, one way or another.”

“Yes, Ser.”

The captain regarded him carefully. “You said your name was Barris?”

“Knight-Lieutenant Delrin Barris, Ser.”

“And you’re the highest ranking here?”

“That I am, Ser. Until you woke up that is.”

“I see.” Khearan smiled up at him with a warmth that seemed genuine for someone so intimidating. “I look forward to working with you, Lieutenant.”

Barris gave him a small, slightly nervous smile of his own. “Likewise, Ser.”

Knight-Captain Trevelyan suddenly taking over the moment he woke up was no surprise, actually. It was protocol for the highest ranking to be put in charge, regardless of the circumstance. And Khearan, like all the rest of them, didn’t really have anywhere else to go. The man recovered quicker than expected, and in a few days he was walking around the keep in his repaired, repolished Captain’s armor with the Ostwick Order crest on his plate. Barris noticed that the crest had a serpent wrapped around the blade, and if the captain’s presence didn’t keep the troops away, his unique heraldry certainly did. All the other Templars watched him either in awe or fear (or both), and kept a respective distance from him.

He was fair, however, and to Barris’s relief, easy to work with. Barris had already been establishing a routine with his troops, rekindling some sense of normalcy in this chaos, and Khearan let him carry on with little interference. He took more of a supervisory role than a commanding one, occasionally stepping in to boost morale or discipline. As the days stretched into weeks, the troops’ fear of the captain steadily transformed into curiosity. One morning, Barris even caught a few of the lower-ranked ones watching the captain at his training as they crouched in the bushes.

“You know, I’m sure you would be able to watch him with no issue if you simply _ask_ him,” he had said, and judging by their astonished expressions, he may as well have told them to go streaking through the Chantry mounted on Mabari.

Then the troops really did start watching him train, openly, gathered in an awestruck group as he began giving combat advice every warrior should know regardless of weapon. Sparring sessions with Khearan became more and more frequent during these morning hours, the newer Templars testing their strength and courage against this terrifying Knight-Captain with his massive greatsword. Almost a month after his rescue, this little Order had finally accepted him as one of their own.

“It seems they’ve rebuilt the Inquisition at Haven,” Khearan informed Barris one afternoon as he reviewed several reports over the last few bites of his lunch. Barris’s efforts had finally paid off, and they had created contact with other Templar branches who hadn’t gone rogue. Correspondences now flowed in and out of the keep on whispery raven wings like servants’ gossip. “And the Chantry is not happy about this whatsoever. Now that’s amusing. According to this, that elf you’ve mentioned before does have a very mysterious power that commands the Breach rifts. They call her the Herald of Andraste. Now isn’t that something?”

“Do you believe it?” Barris inquired.

Khearan shrugged. “Who’s to say? But this probably means we should move on from here, finally. We’ve done all we can in this region regarding the rebelling mages and rogue Templars. I suppose this Inquisition can take things from here. Besides, something just as interesting just came our way.”

He slid a piece of parchment across the table to where Barris sat. The lieutenant recognized the broken seal of the Seekers of Truth as he lifted the tawny paper in his fingers. “Orders from the Lord Seeker,” Khearan summarized as Barris’s eyes scanned the elegant black writing. “All surviving members of the Order are to rendezvous in Val Royeaux within the month.”

“But the Order is no longer affiliated with the Seekers,” Barris pointed out.

“Someone apparently didn’t tell our esteemed Lord Seeker Lucius that.” Khearan flashed the other Templar a mischievous grin. “Why? You don’t want to go? Then let’s not. We can do something else.”

“We shouldn’t ignore orders from a Lord Seeker.”

Khearan frowned in a slight pout. “And here I was thinking you were fun, Lieutenant. Like you said, the Seekers aren’t a part of our Order anymore, it’s not like he’s in any position to be commanding us for anything.”

“You do have a point, but it could be important. Perhaps the Lord Seeker is finally putting the Order back together. Maybe now something can finally be done about this crisis, and on a much bigger scale than just picking off crazy mages and renegade Templars.”

Khearan smacked his lips together as he regarded the Lieutenant with knowing eyes, folding his hands beneath his chin. Since he had resumed his duties, he had shaved until his facial hair formed a small goatee, making his tattoos really stand out. “You’re bored, aren’t you, Barris.”

Unable to help himself, Barris’s full lips curved in a small smile. “A little, yes,” he admitted.

“I thought so. Me, too.” The captain sighed deeply. “Alright, let’s go see what this Lord Seeker wants from us. Tell the troops that we march for Val Royeaux within the week while I send our affirmation. Orlais should be nice this time of year. And I’ll finally get a proper bath.”

* * *

 

A week into Kingsway, the Hinterlands decided to dump the last of the summer rains upon them all at once. It took all of Ketthan’s focus to keep his footing on the slick, muddy ground. His fire magic sizzled and smoked in his outstretched palm, barely creating a spark.

This was fine.

The bandit in armor far shinier and well-made than a simple highwayman could own gave Ket a wide grin, showing off his many missing teeth. The mage was out of juice, completely vulnerable. He rushed forward to finish him, leaving the safety of his shield.

His grin vanished in shock when Ket’s blade swung out of nowhere and slammed into his own. Clashing metal shrieked in the air until his sword launched right of his hand. The next thing he knew, the mage’s cutlass had sunk deep into his chest, cleanly slicing through metal, tissue, and muscle, and everything was going dark.

That trick could only work once. Now the others knew the mage wasn’t nearly so helpless.

“I can’t believe Firebug’s magic doesn’t work in the rain,” Varric muttered, shaking his head as a kiss from Bianca took out another bandit in the eye.

“He says he can do _some_ things,” Rin pointed out, shooting another poor sod in the kneecap. “Just not offensive spells.”

“At least he can use a sword, I suppose.”

“He’s talented, but it is ultimately unfortunate,” Solas added as he focused on keeping the spirit barriers intact, protected by the pair of archers. “Mages who develop one specialty can become incredibly powerful, but develop many weaknesses as well.”

“Unless my ears deceive me, I think Chuckles just paid someone a compliment.”

“I actually often do deliver praise when such is warranted, child of the stone.”

“How about the lot of you stop talking and focus?” Cassandra snapped as she fell back a moment to catch her breath, mud clinging to her armor and blood running down her sword. “I’d like to finish this before we all catch our death!”

“As you wish, Seeker!”

Rin watched, once again impressed and jealous, when Varric activated a mechanism on Bianca and a volley of bolts rained down upon the bandits charging at them. One turned to flee, but Rin’s bolt sank into the back of his skull, and his body hit the ground like a potato sack. What she would give to have a crossbow like Bianca, but it was difficult finding the time to build the necessary upgrades to make her weapon at least more competent. She sighed. One day, one day.

This was a pickle. The rest of the bandits who managed to run off had left nothing behind but their weapons. If they had a stronghold out here, there was no way the party would be able to find it in this torrential downpour. The southeast region of the Hinterlands was completely unfamiliar territory, and it was a half-day’s walk back to camp. Worst of all, the rain had soaked completely through their bags and ruined their supplies.

“If we can find a cave somewhere, we should be okay,” Varric pointed out. Then he shuddered. “Maker’s balls, I can’t believe I just said that.”

Lightning streaked through the sky, and thunder rumbled. Even the light of the Breach was considerably dimmed beneath the covering of black clouds. Rin, the fastest of the bunch, scouted ahead, searching for any sign of shelter. Her eyes could see better than humans in the dark, but with rainwater dripping into them from her lashes, it was a pain to even keep them open. With each step, her armor grew heavier and goosebumps formed along her skin beneath the leather. She shivered, and once she did, she couldn’t stop.

The water no longer felt like a warm Kingsway rain. It was ice-cold and penetrated straight through to her bones. Her ears picked up a repeating clackity-clack sound, and then she realized it was her teeth chattering.

Trees and more trees, all towering like shadowy sentries in the misty rain. Nothing but trees all around her, stretching for miles and miles, wrapping around rocks and climbing up mountains. Lightning flashed again, and her heart all but stopped beating in her chest.

Wasn’t it supposed to be super dangerous in a forest during a storm?

_What’s wrong, lil’ sis?_

_Not words. Never words. A gentle touch on her head and the warmest of smiles. She never needed to use words to be understood._

_“It’s so loud!” Young Rin complained. She kept her voice down, however, just in case Shianni overheard and started making fun of her again. This would not be the first time her older cousin picked on her for being afraid of thunder._

_Luey held out her arms, and Rin crawled out from the table and into their warmth._

_It’s only a little thunder._

_Luey’s fingers smoothed her hair and was actually almost believable. What was the worst a storm had ever done to them, really? City elves were a hardy bunch; their houses might have looked like scraps of wood and stone thrown together, but they were well fortified within just like their inhabitants. The last storm that actually had destroyed some of the alienage was a terrible hurricane that managed to go far inland, and that was long, long before Rin or Luey were even born, maybe even back when their father worked for Bann Rodolf._

_She sang to her then. A soft, sweet melody. The only time she could ever hear her voice._

A sharp pain shot through Rin’s head when her hand scraped against the rock, and hot blood rushed out of her palm. She immediately lost her footing and tumbled right back down to the dirt, water splashing up all around her when she slammed into a deep puddle. She had been climbing to get a better vantage point, and ended up daydreaming in the process.

She sat up with a disgusted groan. Cassandra may have been a better choice for this job, after all. Rin, on the other hand, no, she was not cut out for the wilderness. She was a smuggler not a hunter. Sure, she could find eight different ways to sneak into some rich lord’s bedroom while blindfolded, but out here all the trees were the same. So were the mountain peaks that poked out above the treeline. There was nothing that let her pinpoint where she was.

She turned to go back to the party and figure out some other way to find shelter when she saw that she didn’t recognize the way she had come at all. “Hey, guys? _Hey! Guys!”_ The rain and the thunder drowned out her voice. They could be standing twenty feet away and probably still couldn’t hear her. Maybe they only were just twenty feet away.

Rin took a step forward, but the moment her boot squished into the mud, she thought better of it. This rock was the only thing out here that wasn’t a tree, and so was the only thing keeping her grounded. If she went out there, she would be lost in a sea of trees forever. At least until she was ambushed by bandits. Or eaten by a bear. Her aching back told her this was far against the rock as she could squish herself.

A sound rose and fell with the wind. Very soft and very close by.

Breathing.

And not her own.

Her breath was quick and shallow, filled with fear and on the verge of panic. This breath was deep and slow, as if something was sleeping. Or _waiting._

Black ooze trailed down the rock close to her body. She could hear their fat, wet drops hitting the stone distinctly from the rain. A familiar green glow began to dance among the trees through the heavy rain. The Mark sparked with life.

She looked up and met the glittering green eyes of a dark demon grinning down at her with many sharp teeth in a mouth too big for its head. It lunged. With a scream, Rin threw herself on the ground to get away, and its oozy body slammed into hers. It smelled rotten, like dead fish and rusty copper bits, its thick odor filling her nose and the back of her throat. The goopy flesh began to seep into her armor through all the little cracks and seams. She tried to scream again, call for help, but all that came up was bile as her stomach lurched violently.

The Mark lashed out of her hand to wrap around the demon’s neck, and she pulled and pulled with all her might, her very life depending on it. The creature rose up on its knees with a glassy shriek to claw at the Mark, but the very light seemed to burn its oozy flesh from its thin fingers. Rin raised herself up on one elbow to yank her left hand back as hard as she could, and the Mark squeezed enough to make its head explode in a dark shower of demonic essence.

One down. However many more to go.

The silence except for the pouring rain and rumble of thunder brought little comfort. This demon was probably a loner, having crawled through a rift and wandered off before its buddies could catch up. Thank the Maker for small favors, she supposed. If there was a rift nearby, there was no way she could possibly close that thing by herself. Trying her damnest not to get sick, this was her _job,_ after all, she scooted as far back into the safety of the rock as possible. She heard no more activity beyond the rain, and the Mark settled back into her skin as if satisfied. Rin stared at her left hand for a long, long time, and for a moment she completely forgot it was storming.

It did it again. It came alive and attacked the demon before she could fight back. Perhaps it really was protecting her? Maker, no, she did not want to think about that! The Mark was just a weird magic thing, it wasn’t sentient, it wasn’t _alive._

Her hand dropped when her ears picked up the sound of footsteps slapping against the wet ground. “Guys?” She spoke up, leaping to her feet. “Is that you? Ket? Cassandra?”

“Ho there, Herald of Andraste.”

Rin nearly jumped out of her skin, swinging her arm around to use the Mark on whatever had just come up on her. Luckily for the young girl standing next to her, the Mark didn’t make the slightest emerald peep, and Rin stood there stupidly with her nonthreatening hand held out in a defensive pose.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

The girl was human, a teenager judging by her childlike features. How had she not heard this girl approach? The footsteps belonged to others approaching now, scouts if their armor were any indication, and not threatening enough to be bandits. She noticed that one of them was an elf. The girl had not come from their direction, however, so Rin couldn’t understand how she hadn’t heard her at all. Her round face was stretched in a smile and her brown eyes were wide with excitement.

“Meet who?” Rin asked. “Me? _ME?”_

“Yes! We’ve been expecting you, actually. You are a little late, and Speaker Anais was getting worried that you weren’t going to show up at all.”

“What? Who? Back up, _who are you?”_

“I don’t think we really have time for that, Herald!” The girl grabbed Rin’s hand, and for a little thing, she had a _grip._ “You’ll get sick if you stay out here much longer. Quickly, quickly!”

“But… hey! Wait!” Rin struggled to release herself, but the girl was ridiculously strong, and the more the elf fought her, the tighter her grip became. “What about my friends?”

“Oh, our scouts will find the rest of your party,” the girl said with a nod. “Then we’ll all meet up at Winterwatch. We have so much food there! And warm blankets, and everyone is so nice! You can rest there, Herald. You and your companions.” She smiled sweetly, happily, and giggled, her face slightly flushed with excitement. “I’m Emilae. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Ah… likewise,” Rin replied. If there really was shelter nearby, one that didn’t mean holing up in a dank cave for the night, then she had no reason to complain. This really was just a little girl, after all, if strangely enthusiastic.

The pair carefully made their way up a hill that brought them out of the forest and a wide clearing spread before them. Beyond, Rin saw a massive fortress built against the mountain, with a tower that seemed to stretch above the very peak. The keep’s vast stone walls stood tall against the beating rain and heavy wind screeching to be let in. A colossal wrought iron gate denied entry to any uninvited party. Lightning flashed, and in that split second the gate glowed in silver and blue.

“Here we are!” Emilae exclaimed, yanking Rin toward the gate. “Hurry, hurry! It’s Winterwatch, we’re finally here!”

Guards in heavy armor lined the walls of the keep, all watching their approach through the dark slits of their helmets. “Ho there!” Emilae called up. “It’s me, Emilae! And this is the Herald of Andraste! Let us in!”

For a minute, there didn’t seem to be a response. Then, the gate groaned and steadily rose with a loud, metallic protest, and the whole portcullis looked to Rin like the toothy jaw of a great beast slowly opening to swallow her whole. She glanced back toward the forest, but there was still no sign of her companions or the scouts.

“Come, come, Lady Herald!” Emilae all but dragged Rin inside. The elf swallowed hard as she reluctantly followed the girl through the keep’s threshold.

“Andraste’s tits, Ketthan, you’d _better_ rescue me soon,” she muttered.

With a clap of metal and thunder, the gate slammed shut into the ground behind her.

 

 


	6. Warmest Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald of Andraste is given a celebrated welcome from the people of Winterwatch Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you haven’t noticed already, this fic deviates from canon A LOT, and it’s going to continue to do so. It’s incredibly boring for me to write something that sticks to canon plot point for plot point. So you’re gonna see a lot of events and familiar scenes go down very differently. You’re gonna see things that don’t happen in the game at all, like certain character recruitments. We’ve all played the game. We all know that story. This story, however, is crafted to be unique to my characters and is the kind of story I want tell. I hope you continue to stick by me!

She never felt this good before.

One pair of strong hands skillfully coaxed the tight kinks out of her muscles, and another, gentler touch filed her nails after scraping away the dirt and grime. Rin floated on a cloud of bliss as another pair, the gentlest touch of all, brushed the knots out of her wet hair. Her head was filled with the sleepy scent of herbs and minerals from the natural hot spring she had just taken a bath in. The large solid hands of the masseuse rubbed her body into jelly, and she could just imagine his own flexing muscles shining in the light, and she decided she was definitely going to call on him again for a more _intimate_ session later.

She needed to be kidnapped more often.

“How do you feel, Lady Herald?” Emilae, the young girl who had “kidnapped” her, asked.

“Gooooood,” Rin purred into the soft blanket she laid on. The white fur reminded her of some pelts she had smuggled from Rivain, pelts claimed to be skinned from great white bears that dwelled far, far south of Ferelden. They had been super heavy and fenced a minor fortune each, and definitely one of those runs that made her entire career worth it.

Emilae clapped her hands. “I’m so happy! Speaker Anais will be so pleased.”

Rin lazily turned her head to look at the girl. Her cute face was still round with baby fat, like a pearl, with a pink tinge to those cheeks. Her brown hair bounced in pigtails above her shoulders. Her light brown eyes were wide with innocence and excitement, like a fawn discovering a flower covered meadow for the first time. “Who’s this Speaker Anais, anyway?” she inquired, only partially interested.

“She’s amazing!”

“That says a lot.”

The others nodded. “Built this place from the ground up she did,” the woman had her nails remarked. “Right in the middle of battling mages and Templars.”

“She took all of us in when we had nowhere to go,” the masseuse added. “Didn’t matter who we were. I was once a Templar myself. I served the Maker through the Chantry, but now I serve Him through Speaker Anais.”

“Is she like a Chantry Mother or somethin’?”

Finished brushing her hair, the other woman, an elf, shrugged. “We don’t quite know, really. She’s a very modest woman, doesn’t talk ‘bout herself all that much.”

“And you lot don’t ask her?”

The elf smiled, and Rin recognized the bitterness that hid along the curve very well. “Speaker Anais does more for us in a span of a few years than the Chantry ever had in our lifetimes. Her past is not for me to question, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Just like you, Lady Herald,” the masseuse remarked gently. “You are the Herald of Andraste, as important to the world as Speaker Anais is to us. What you once were doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yay, that’s a relief.”

Rin flashed them a cheesy smile, but she was met with gentle, almost pitying expressions. It was kind of annoying, actually, as if they had achieved some kind of enlightenment that she probably should by now. The three dismissed themselves, and Emilae helped Rin dress into elaborate garments a city elf like her had no right to touch legally. It was a tunic of dark blue and silver, black boots made of fine leather, and a silvery sash as if cut from moonlight to tie around her waist. The circular cutout on her chest teased the top of her breasts, the long sleeves flowed at her wrists, and her pants reached only to her thighs.

“Do you like it?” Emilae asked expectantly.

“How’d you guess I was into Antivan night fashion?” Rin gushed, unable to stop staring at herself as she twirled in front of the mirror. With each movement, her nose was filled with a sensual cyphre fragrance, and the bell hanging from her neck tinkled. “I about _died_ when Bani Lami created these ‘short-pants’ a few years ago! I’ve been tryin’ to get a hold of a pair ever since but they’re so hard to find even for me!” She was still baffled out how fast they had made these clothes for her, having only just gotten her measurements before she had gone into the bath. And everything perfectly matched her taste, too! Especially the cutout on her chest. She felt nothing less than a goddess, bold, daring, and unstoppable.

Emilae’s smile was huge. “I’m so glad, Lady Herald. You’re so beautiful.”

“Yeah? Well, this is a _gorgeous_ outfit.”

“Speaker Anais does everything she can to provide us with everything we could ever desire.”

“Damn,” Rin said with a low whistle. “She must have some crazy resources to get all of this. There’s quite a bunch of you, ain’t there?”

“About two hundred more or less over the past few years. She came to Winterwatch just when the Rebellion started. The Maker told her she would need to make a refuge for those of us suffering from the war. A place for the Maker’s worthy children to stay until…”

Emilae trailed off.

“Until what?”

She smiled. “That’s all we really know about her, Lady Herald. Like the others said, the rest doesn’t really matter. She’s here, and now you’re here.”

Rin leaned against a wall. “So how did you end up here, anyway?”

“Me?” Emilae blinked, then placed her hands behind her back as she traced the tips of her toes along a pattern in the rug. “I just got here last spring. I used to be at the Highever Circle. We tried to stay neutral in the war, but when a bunch of Templars broke into the tower last year, we had to run. We ended up in the Hinterlands, and then I got separated from everyone else. I thought for sure Templars were gonna get me.”

She blushed, and her hands started playing with one of her pigtails. “You see, I – I’m not a very good mage, Lady Herald. Magic kinda scares me, y’know? Having to deal with all those demons and the like. I even thought about requesting to be Tranquil, anything so long as I didn’t have to go through a Harrowing and face one of those things. So, well, I can’t fight at all, and I was sure Templars were gonna kill me eventually.”

Her hands dropped to fold in front of her, and her face brightened considerably from her wide smile. “Then Speaker Anais found me! She took me in and gave me clothes and food. And not bland food like in the Circle, but really, _really_ good food, so much stuff I never ate before! Everyone here is so nice, and best of all, I can do what I want and there are no Templars around to stop me! Oh, but uh, there are Templars here, but they guard the Tower so they don’t bother me at all.”

She blushed a little, glancing down at her feet. “Speaker Anais… she means so much to me now. You know, she told me when she met me that I was special. That I meant something. No one… ever made me feel like that, ever.”

“Emilae,” Rin said softly, “how old are you?”

The young girl looked proud. “I just turned fourteen this past Bloomingtide! There was a big birthday party and everything! I even got to eat _cake!”_

“Happy belated birthday. You’re all grown up now.”

“Thank you, Lady Herald.” Her smile faded and eyebrows furrowed with sudden irritation. “I just hope Stefyn finally notices. Boys can be so dumb.”

“Oh, sweetcake, let me tell you a thing or two about dumb boys…”

Giggling, the two of them left the room for dinner. Just before Rin stepped out into the hall to follow Emilae, she felt something. Static, like lightning gathering for a massive storm, slowly crawled up the back of her neck. A weight pushed down on her, as if an invisible something just climbed onto her shoulders, hanging precariously off her back. The room was bright with many gently burning torches, their flames dancing along the stone walls, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was staring at her just outside her peripheral vision.

“Lady Herald?”

The feeling lessened considerably when Emilae called for her. She had already gone further down the hall, having just noticed Rin hadn’t been following her.

“Sorry,” Rin said as she caught up. “Got a little bit distracted.”

“This place will do that. It’s so big, I still haven’t explored everything.”

“Have these paintings always been here?” Rin asked as they walked together to the dining hall, noticing the long line of artwork neatly arranged on the wall.

“At least since I’ve been here.”

“Who are they?”

Emilae shrugged. “Dunno. Personally, I think they’re really creepy. It’s the one thing about the Tower I don’t like. Art’s supposed to be pretty, y’know. And these things are just… ick.”

Rin was in complete agreement. There was something very unnerving about these portraits. All the people who stared at her, both male and female subjects, did not seem in the slightest bit happy about anything in life. Their eyes were tiny and sharp, minute pupils sitting in wide eyes. Their ghostly skin stretched too tight over gaunt features, noses pointed like beaks and lips nothing but dark lines. Their skin and the whites of their eyes were the only light colors on the canvas; all others were miserable hues of gray and brown mixed together in a disheartening atmosphere.

One portrait in particular was of a man with many wrinkles and what looked to be pointed teeth. She could see the teeth because the picture itself seemed to _sneer_ at her, tiny eyes refusing to let go of hers. And the longer she stared at it, the more that sneer _grew._

“Whoa, don’t look at them!” Emilae exclaimed, grabbing her hand. “You’ll freak yourself out, Lady Herald.” She giggled. “My friends and I kinda made up this ‘legend’ where if you stare at the pictures too long, your soul will get sucked out.”

Rin tried to smile back but all her mouth could do was twitch nervously, and a bead of cold sweat rolled down her face. “Oh, that’s… nice.”

“We’re always daring each other to go in this hall at night and see how long we can stare at one of them before we get too scared.”

Freaking kids these days.

Trying hard not to look back at the portrait, trying to shake away the feeling that its gaze was on _her,_ she let Emilae take her away. It was going to take a lot of alcohol to wipe the image of that portrait from the back of her mind.

* * *

 

The dining hall was large enough to fit over a hundred people comfortably. Long wooden tables lined the floor, and the walls echoed with many voices laughing, gossiping, and celebrating. Varric stood in the middle of a wide-eyed, open-mouthed crowd, embellishing a story about the Herald of Andraste and her defeat of a mighty bear. “Sneaky!” he called out with a large wave, and she noticed him sway slightly. The beer must have been something here to get a dwarf already tipsy. The crowd glanced at her, and then immediately began whispering excitedly amongst themselves.

“You guys are here!” Rin called back, and ran right into Varric in a tight hug. “It was so awful! The warm bath, the sexy massage, these amazing clothes, the _torture!”_

“Poor thing,” Varric replied soothingly. “We were all set to rescue you, but we kept saying, ‘Just one more round of this mind-blowing taste of malty heaven!’ You _have_ to try this beer, Rin. I haven’t had something so delicious almost immediately knock me off my feet since that curvy brunette in the Blooming Rose two summers ago.”

“You’re a dwarf and already drunk! Impressive!”

“Nah, more like I feel so relaxed, all my inhibitions are removed. It actually doesn’t taste strong at all. Firebug seems to be holding up okay, and he’s been chugging this shit like water. I think he’s nervous about something.”

“Oh?”

The crowd parted respectfully as Varric led her back to their table where Ket threw back another mug of apparently the best beer in Thedas. “Hey,” Rin greeted, tapping his shoulder.

He all but spat his drink out, instead choking it down and coughing aggressively. “Rin!” he gasped when he managed to get enough air, scrambling to his feet. She noticed the strings on his white shirt were mostly untied, showing off his collar and an appreciated portion of skin and she wondered whose chest was going to end up teasing who throughout the night.

“Yup, that’s me. Nervous about somethin’?”

“Y-no, nothing really… okay, maybe a little, you just _disappeared_ on us. We tried to look for you, but these people ended up finding us instead. They told us you would be here so we had nothing to worry about.”

“Well, this wasn’t exactly the kind of rescue I was hopin’ for, but it’ll do, I suppose.” Maybe it was the sheer relief she felt or the joyful atmosphere or the amazing clothes she wore, but Rin felt bold and so she leaned into Ket to reach for his mug. Her chest brushed lightly against his own, and she could feel his heat seeping from the clothes he wore. Closing her eyes, she took a deep drink.

A smooth, deep flavor filled her mouth, thick and savory, with just enough honey sweetness to be pleasant. She swallowed with a blissful sigh. Rin had tasted many drinks over the years, from the sickening sweetness of Carnal to waking up in a dirty alley after one drink of Abyssal Peach. Never had she tasted anything quite like this, something that immediately made her feel relaxed and completely at peace. All her thoughts drifted away, every single one, and she didn’t bother to hang on to any of them.

“You smell good,” Ket said softly against her hair. He flushed when she looked up at him. “I-I mean, you look good, _look_ good!”

Rin took another drink, not taking her eyes off him. “Sure, kitty-Ket. That’s _exactly_ what you meant.”

A snort drew her attention to the other side of the table. Cassandra shook her head with a slight smile. “You should probably get something to eat,” she told Rin. “The food here is wonderful. I can’t believe there is a place in the Hinterlands that is thriving so much despite this war. It makes me rather curious.”

One table at the front of the dining hall was about three times the size of all the others, and upon its surface was the biggest spread Rin had ever seen. Dozens and dozens of people were eating, and yet there hardly seemed to be a dent in the amount of food provided. Not game food, not cheap food, but the kind of food reserved for city privileged. Juicy meats and plump fruits and bright greens and cheeses and warm bread and butter and kegs and kegs of that amazing ale, and the next thing Rin knew, she was carrying a tiny tower of food on a plate back to the table.

“I want to cry,” Rin sighed, and she practically did when she smeared strawberries and butter onto a thick slice of bread and bit deep. The burst of flavor reminded her of home.

No, not of home. Not _that_ home. Not the alienage.

It reminded her of the warm mornings of her new home. Of Sacha the cook who made delicious little breakfast pastries for all the servant girls just before the morning chores. It was never cold or drafty in that kitchen, always blanketed with the warm fragrances of tea and baking, and there was never anything to fear from the shems who came and went. There was one morning in particular when Lady Eisa surprised them all with a basket filled with fresh strawberries she had bought from the market, all for them to share. Rin had sat close to her as she bit deep into one very plump strawberry, and thinking the lady smelled so wonderful, like honey and lemon and spring evenings.

Rin stared at the bread. She often thought of Denerim, never fondly, but often. But… she never thought of House Trevelyan. Until now.

It took her a moment to realize she was staring at Ket. He regarded her a moment before reaching over to gently wipe away a strawberry crumb from the corner of her mouth with a caress of his thumb, and she noticed that his eyes of forest green peppered with brown flecks were the same as his mother’s. Looking at his eyes made her gaze drop to his lips. The drink was definitely getting to her head, removing all inhibitions just as Varric said. `

The room grew silent. Rin snapped back to reality when she noticed everyone around them had gone completely quiet. They were all looking in a single direction, and Rin followed their gaze to an otherwise unassuming door that had opened.

From that doorway entered a tall, voluptuous woman, strawberry-blond curls cascading down her back. She wore regal garments of magenta, purple, and gold, and precious gems gleamed from her fingers. Yet, she didn’t look wealthy so much as _powerful,_ sharing the fruits of her life in gracious generosity to these impoverished farmers and desperate folk. The torchlight bathed her in a soft golden glow as if she were a spirit of the sun, the one source of light in this dark land. Rin stared, unable to take her gaze away. If there was anyone who looked as if they could be chosen by Andraste, it had to be this woman. Not someone who was always covered in dirt and no power to do the things that really mattered.

The woman’s ruby lips bowed into a warm, welcoming smile. “Herald of Andraste!” she announced, spreading her arms. “I am Speaker Anais, and I welcome you and the Inquisition to Winterwatch Tower. Please, eat, drink, and make merry for tonight we celebrate the coming of the Hearld, the Maker’s Chosen!”

Cheers erupted from within the dining hall, echoing all the way to the high ceiling and extending out to the rest of the keep. Devoted cries of _“Praise the Maker! Praise Speaker Anais! Praise the Herald of Andraste!”_ resonated all around her, and Rin had to sit down before her knees buckled beneath this overwhelming feeling. She had no idea how to even describe it. Pride? Excitement? Happiness? They all sounded lackluster in comparison to this sensation.

“Lady Herald, please take a walk with me.”

Anais gestured for her to approach, looking at Rin with a gentle gaze. She felt her face grow steadily hot from her neck all the way to her ears. “Ah, o-of course,” she stammered, her voice cracking a little in her throat and glanced at the startled gazes of the others. Her eyes met Cassandra’s, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Um… be back in a minute, guys! Ha. Don’t party too hard without me!”

“It’s so wonderful that we’ve finally had the chance to meet, Lady Herald,” Anais said as the two of them walked out of the dining hall into a corridor that cut through an elaborate garden. The storm had moved on by now, and all that lingered was a gentle rain. The air was full of sweet floral scents and the last of the summer fireflies floated among the bright petals. “I’ve waited three years for this, ever since the Maker spoke to me in a dream and commanded me to do everything in my power to aid the Herald of Andraste.”

“He told you the future? Like… you _knew_ all this was gonna happen?”

“Not the Conclave, no. Only that a chosen of Andraste was going to appear one day.”

“But _who are you?”_ Rin couldn’t stop the blunt question. “You call yourself ‘Speaker’. Are you with the Chantry?”

Anais shook her head. “I’m afraid not, and I never have been. In fact, I wasn’t even Andrastian before I had the dream. But the Maker came to me anyway.”

“And you just obeyed like that?”

“Regardless of my personal beliefs, how could I say ‘no’ to the opportunity to help people in need?

The indiscriminate violence of the Rebellion tore my lands apart, and I witnessed the mass suffering and desperation it caused. In dark times like these, we should all work together, shouldn’t we? So I learned of this abandoned tower that once belonged to a distant relative of mine. I came here, and spent the next three years turning this place into a sanctuary as I waited for you, Herald of Andraste.”

Rin went silent as she leaned against a post, crossing her arms, and gazed at the garden. The clouds parted enough to let moonbeams radiate the world in tender silver.

“And so I am inviting you and your Inquisition to stay here with us.”

She tore her gaze away from the garden to stare at the Speaker. _“Here?_ Are you sure? There’s so many people here already.”

“And I assure you we have more than enough to provide for many, many more.” Anais swept her arm around in a grand gesture and nodded toward the dining hall. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you, how happy these people are? They are mages and Templars and famers and nobles and tailors and smithies and bakers. In their happiness, they produce so much because they all work together, unhindered by politics. Just think of how much more your own people could add to this growing prosperity.”

“Like… a utopia,” Rin concluded.

“You could call it that,” Anais agreed. “With the Herald of Andraste to lead us, this ideal could spread to the rest of Ferelden, maybe even all of Thedas. Think about it. No more war. No more unhappiness. People working together for eternal bliss. _You_ can make all that possible.”

Her words were so elegant and yet so daunting, Rin actually started to shrink away from her. “I… I’m just trying to close the Breach,” she pointed out meekly, turning her gaze to her feet. “I’m not in it for the politics.”

Anais’s smile faded as she regarded the Herald with a serious expression, and their eyes met again. “I’m going to level with you, Lady Herald. I did not create this place out of the goodness of my heart. I have my own ideals and ambitions at stake here.”

“So there is an angle, after all.”

“Please hear me out. The best outcome comes from balancing the needs of oneself and others. I want to change the world, and if easing the suffering of others compliments that goal, then that is the best possible outcome, is it not?”

“I suppose.”

“You may not have a choice when it comes to politics. You are the Herald of Andraste, and that angers a great many people. You are an _elf,_ after all, and those prejudices are not going to disappear just because you claim to be chosen by the Maker.” Anais sighed softly. “I heard the Chantry has officially denounced the Inquisition.”

Rin nodded.

“You can’t build an effective movement in these conditions. The Chantry is much too powerful, too influential. The Divine is dead, but believers will cling to their faith more strongly than ever. A few question, but not enough. More is at stake here than just closing the Breach. You have to earn the trust of the people first. And that takes the politics you don’t want to be a part of.”

Rin groaned, scratching her head. “This is such a headache. I didn’t ask for this!”

“None of us ask for anything, Lady Herald.” She reached over to take Rin’s hand in hers. The skin of her palm was soft and smooth, not like the calloused roughness of the elf’s hands. “Please consider my offer. The Tower is heavily fortified, and we have plenty of room and resources, far more than what that village in the mountains can provide. Everyone here is ready to devote themselves to your cause.”

“I can’t make a decision like that on my own,” Rin protested. “I’ll have to talk to Cassandra first.”

“Of course, Lady Herald. Take all the time you need.”

With a graceful flow of her dresses, Speaker Anais glided back into the dining hall. Rin stayed in place, letting her words sink in. It was unnerving that the Speaker had brought her out here, talking to her as if they were two leaders negotiating, as if Rin was actually _equal_ to her. Cassandra should have been out here. “I’m just… closing the Breach,” she muttered, holding her left hand close to her chest.

The clouds covered the moon once again and thunder rumbled as if the distant storm had changed its mind and decided to come back. The gathering static made the fine hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

She touched the bell she wore. She had always kept it on ever since she had picked it up at the Temple. It always reminded her of the death she saw at the Conclave, all those lives lots in an instant just because they wanted peace. Would that happen to her? One day, would she also become nothing but a pile of ash? Just because she dared change something in this twisted world?

_Let Cassandra deal with it. This has nothing to do with me!_

Rin turned to follow Anais into the dining hall and jumped when she saw Solas standing next to her. “Andraste’s cunt!” she exclaimed. “Fuck, Solas, don’t _do_ that!”

His lips twitched ever so slightly with amusement. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him at dinner. “Where’ve you been, anyway?”

“I took it upon myself to become better acquainted with our surroundings, so I explored for a little bit.”

“Find anythin’ interesting in the Fade?” she teased.

He frowned. “That’s what concerns me, and there’s something I think you should know. The Veil is incredibly thin here. In fact, it is all but nonexistent.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me that could be a good thing? Like magic flowin’ freely and all that?”

“This isn’t the same. The little of the Veil that is here has been _twisted_ in some way. I don’t sense the presence of spirits _or_ demons anywhere. This silence… it isn’t _right.”_

Personally, Rin thought it was good thing that in a place where the Veil was considered thin, they actually weren’t being overrun by demons. She kept that opinion to herself, however, because Solas was right. That they weren’t drowning in demons in a place so exposed was very odd. “So, um, what do we do about it?”

“There may be an elven relic around here that might strengthen the Veil. I’ve been looking for it, but I have yet to find it. In the meantime, please be careful, Rinlyra. Things could get very dangerous here, and Speaker Anais may not realize it.”

“You’re such a _joy_ at parties, you know that?”

He actually did smile, and it wasn’t unattractive. “I’d like to think I liven things up a bit from time to time.”

They went back into the dining hall together. The static in the air lifted, and the storm drifted on its way.

* * *

 

Rin hadn’t slept like that in _months._

She hadn’t had a night like that in months, either. As she lay in the soft featherbed that hugged every curve of her body, she snuggled the fluffy blanket close to her and dreamily relived the previous night’s events. They had partied until all the clouds dispersed and the sky just above the mountains turned pink, getting drunk off that wonderful beer that now wasn’t giving her the slightest hangover. They had danced to pipes and fiddles until their legs couldn’t hold them up anymore, drank until they had gone blind with bliss, and laughed and laughed until their voices went raw.

She rolled onto her back, staring up at the high ceiling where the sunlight danced along the wooden beams. Maybe staying here wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

She threw her arm to the side only to smack it against something very solid and very alive that yelped the moment she struck it. “Maker’s balls, what the _hell!?”_

_“Ket!?”_

With a shriek of surprise, Rin backed up until there was no more bed left, and she slammed into the floor, taking the blankets tangled around her legs with her. “Holy shit, um, hi, good mornin’? Uh… did uh… did you… did _we…?”_

He peered down at her, his face bright red and his hair a complete mess and his shirt all but falling off one of his shoulders. “I don’t… think so.”

“Damn, that’s disappointing.”

“Would you rather not remember?” He flashed her a playful smirk when she couldn’t answer him. There really was no way to answer that, and damn she hated it when he turned her own jokes back on her.

“You’re sassy this mornin’,” she remarked in slight irritation as she managed to free her legs from the blankets’ grip and stand up. It was a pity that her clothes were now embarrassingly wrinkled, and sweat and alcohol now perfumed the fabric.

“This is the first I drank my ass off and feel great about it,” Ket replied with a shrug. “That beer is something else.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” He tilted his head at her.

“How would you feel if we stayed here?”

“What do you mean?”

Rin sat down on the bed and placed her hand on his head to smooth his hair down. “Anais offered to house the Inquisition.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. The keep is pretty big and looks well defended. And provides everything we need. I don’t really see a problem. Why? You don’t want to?”

“I do but… what about Haven? They’re all part of the Inquisition now, but I kinda feel weird about makin’ them all pack up and move away from their home.”

Ket stared at her, arching an eyebrow. “You’re strangely sensitive about this.”

“What do you mean _strangely?”_ she exclaimed and punched him playfully in the arm.

“You’re not exactly the most considerate person, Rin,” he pointed out. “Ow! Hey, I’m delicate!”

“I just don’t feel right makin’ such a big decision by myself.”

“Then don’t. Talk to the others about it. It’s not like Anais is pressuring you to stay, is she?”

“Ah… no. Not that I can tell.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Talk to Cassandra, and she’ll figure out what to do.” He shrugged. “But I personally wouldn’t mind staying.”

A long, rumbling sound interjected, a strained cry of hunger. “Was that your stomach or mine?” she asked.

“Both?”

Laughing, the two of them hopped off the bed and left the room. “Oh, Maker!” Rin took a step back. More of those weird pictures lined the wall just across from the door, a dreary gallery of bleak and dark swamp-like landscapes and bitter portraits of bitter people. She shivered.

She hadn’t noticed the landscape paintings last night. Static crawled along her shoulders with needle-like feet.

“I’ll take it as a good sign if all we have to worry about is tasteless art,” Ket remarked.

She gave him a small smile in return, but then she remembered what Solas had said to her. The thin Veil. The lack of demonic activity despite it. She should be grateful, but it really was too abnormal to not be a little worried about it. She opened her mouth to ask Ket about it, since being a mage, he would know about these things better than she did.

“The hell is that?”

Ket walked up to one of the portraits, and it looked just like the one that had been sneering at Rin last night. The only difference was that the mouth was closed in a perpetual frown of disappointment as it glared at something off to the side. He touched a corner of the frame, and she half expected the portrait to bite him. Then he stared at his fingers with a puzzled expression before sniffing them. “This is blood.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Someone must have had a _really wild_ night last night.” He glanced around. “There seems to be a few stains on the wall, too. Doesn’t look like a lot, but this was definitely more than a minor scratch.”

She was a little startled that his human eyes had picked put the stains before she did. But now that he had pointed it out, she caught splotches of dark stains splattered lightly along the wall and the floor. They left a trail for a few feet before disappearing as if that someone had managed to stop the bleeding.

“Maybe they thought there was a door there and walked right into the picture.” She spoke more for her own comfort.

Ket snorted. “Sounds plausible, everyone was drinking _a lot_. And we did end up in the same bed together last night.”

Rin had a comeback all prepared for that when a _“mmrrr”_ sound cut her off. “Was that our stomachs again?” she asked after a pause.

“It… sounded like a cat almost.”

“Where? Sounded kinda close.”

Ket grinned devilishly. “Maybe it was one of the pictures.”

“Ah, Ketthan Trevelyan, _no,_ don’t you _dare!”_ Rin spun on her heel and walked away before she got creeped out even more. She made a note that if the Inquisition did take up residence here, it would be on the condition that all those pictures were to be burned immediately.

They ran into Varric just as they arrived at the dining hall. “Mornin’!” Rin greeted cheerfully. “Sleep okay?”

“Surprisingly, yeah, considering how smashed we all got last night,” the dwarf replied. “I feel fresh as rain, and I’m pretty sure I finished half a keg all by myself.” His grin faded. “Hey, have you two seen the Seeker at all? I knocked on her door to come to breakfast, but she didn’t answer.”

“She was pretty wasted, too, wasn’t she? Maybe she’s asleep,” Rin pointed out.

“Hm, maybe. That doesn’t seem like her.” He chuckled. “You know, the night we found you, Sneaky, she got drunk that night. _Really_ drunk. I think it may have been Dragon Piss, I don’t even know, but it was something that messes most people up pretty bad after only a few drinks. I’ve seen veteran alcoholics take days to recover from that shit. Cullen and I had to carry her to her bed while she sang Chantry hymns through her sobbing. The next morning, just an hour or so after dawn, there she was out in the training grounds, muttering to herself like usual. Her head had to have been killing her, but she powered through it like it was nothing.”

“Damn. Well, to be fair, the beds in Haven aren’t the most comfortable. And the beds here, _Maker._ I could have died happily where I lay.”

Varric laughed. “Yeah, that was some great sleep, I’ll give you that.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just being paranoid. Something about this place… it feels almost too good. Like the plot twist is gonna come any moment now.”

“If you’re lookin’ for a twist, Speaker Anais wants the Inquisition to stay here,” Rin said.

“No shit? I definitely can’t say the offer isn’t tempting. If our nights are gonna be anything like last night, we can just hole ourselves up here and let the rest of the world burn, ha.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, bad joke.”

The main courtyard in front of the dining hall was filled with people tending to their morning routines. The smell of bread baking wafted through the air, making Rin’s stomach snarl with gluttonous anticipation. Chickens clucked as small children giggled and chased them about. The clanging of hammers shaped weapons rang from one of the large smith shops. A small group of women gossiped about last night’s events as they fed their hungry newborns at a small fountain under a tree of red and gold. This sense of township and closeness wasn’t something Rin had ever experienced, not in the alienage where everyone was too paranoid about shems barging in to genuinely relax, and not in Haven where the residents struggled to survive so close to the Breach.

“Good morning, Lady Herald!” Emilae greeted as she approached the trio. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yup! The bed was amazing, probably one of the best I’ve ever slept in,” Rin replied with a bright smile.

“That’s great, I’m so – “

Emilae cut off when a bell, a large bell, from somewhere high above rang heavily in the air. A single, deep gong. Everyone stopped right where they were and dropped to their knees. It didn’t matter what they were doing. Even the children mimicked the adults. The hungry babies continued to eat but without a peep. The animals stayed quiet and to themselves; Rin couldn’t even hear the birds chirping.

A low chant flowed down upon them, drumming out in a language she never heard before, a language that was heavy and uncomfortable to listen to. Then Rin realized with a start that it wasn’t a single disembodied voice. The chanting was coming from the people all around her, chanting in such perfect unison that they sounded as one. She exchanged glances with Ket and Varric, who both looked just as astonished as she did.

After a minute, there was a moment of silence. And then, moving like a crowd of marionettes, they all stood to their feet.

Life in the courtyard resumed as if nothing happened. Smithies worked, bakers baked, mothers gossiped, and children chased the chickens clucking with anxiety.

“Uuuuuh, Emilae,” Rin began, her voice barely above a whisper. “What. Just. _Happened?”_

The teenager gave her a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Morning devotional. Every morning, we praise Andraste for bringing us through the night and allowing us to live another beautiful day. We should never take these things for granted.” Her smile grew wider. “Right, Lady Herald?”

“Uh… yeah, I get it. Totally right.” She nodded vigorously. “Praise the Maker. We get to live another day, yay.”

Emilae giggled. “Praise the Maker.”


	7. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winterwatch slowly reveals its secrets when Rin realizes that not all things are what they seem here. The discoveries she makes along with Ket's research only adds more questions than answers to the truth of this old keep and the people who live in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far, about 8.2k more or less. So make sure you are somewhere comfortable with some snacks before you start. There was really no way I could split this, and it's probably best experienced without interruption. Enjoy!

Cassandra entered the dining hall just as the trio had finished their lunch, looking paler than normal with heavy dark bags under her eyes. _“Coffee,”_ she demanded when she met their gazes. Ket, who had just finished pouring himself a new cup, set the pot close to her when she plopped down on a chair.

“You okay?” Rin asked. “Party too hard?”

“I’m actually _not_ hungover,” the Seeker shot back, not pouring herself some coffee since she was holding her head with her hands. “I just didn’t sleep well at all last night. I kept waking up to…” She trailed off, lifting her head and looking perplexed. “I… I have no idea what it was, really. It sounded like a group of cats yowling.”

“A cat? We kinda heard somethin’ that sounded like a cat, too.”

Ket nodded. “It’s not unreasonable for cats to be here. This place has been abandoned for a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Well, they were very, very obnoxious,” Cassandra groaned. “They kept scratching at the walls, too.” She pulled the pot toward her as if she intended to drink the whole thing herself. “I should have stayed up instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour. _Ugh._ ”

“I trust we all slept well after such revelry,” Solas spoke up as he approached the table.

“You just missed Cassandra telling us about cats serenading her all night, Chuckles,” Varric replied.

The elf raised an eyebrow. “Cats?”

“Vile creatures,” Cassandra groaned.

Rin took a deep breath to gather her wits, scratching her left hand that suddenly itched. “So…” she began, “since we’re all here, there’s somethin’ we need to talk about.” The others gave her their undivided attention as she summarized Speaker Anais’s proposal for the Inquisition to stay at Winterwatch Tower.

“That will not be easy,” Cassandra pointed out once Rin was finished. “Moving all of those people down the mountain and across the Hinterlands will take no insignificant amount of time. And many of them won’t be very keen on moving away from the comfort of their homes.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“However, the idea isn’t a bad one,” the Seeker continued. She sat up straight now, as if the talk the politics had been what was needed to energize her spirit. “We should take advantage of every opportunity. And there’s nothing that says the Inquisition can’t have two strongholds. In fact, doing so will place at least half the region under our control.”

“Won’t the Chantry see this expansion as a threat?” Solas inquired. His mouth was set in a straight line as if he had eaten something sour. He didn’t look very fond of the idea of staying here at all.

Cassandra chuckled. “Of course they will. A worried Chantry means they won’t underestimate us. This movement will prove to them that they can’t just bully us into submission.”

“This sounds much too reckless. I may be just an apostate ignorant to such political movements, but Rinlyra wanted our opinions, and I am voicing mine. We don’t know anything about this Speaker Anais. We don’t know her true motives. Bringing our people here could put them in more danger than not.”

“That is a valid point,” the Seeker admitted. “I am not saying this isn’t going to come without considerable risk on our part. But I can’t ignore the prosperity here, prosperity that should be shared with the people of Haven and the rest of the region. If we can do that and build our power at the same time, I believe that any risk is worth it.”

She looked at Rin. “It is up to you, Herald.”

Maker damn it.

“These are your people, now. There are both pros and cons to this situation. Whatever you decide, you have our support.” The others nodded in agreement.

Rin shifted from one foot to the other in a tiny dance of indecision. She couldn’t – couldn’t – be responsible for a decision like this!

“I… I don’t know,” she finally said in defeat.

Cassandra nodded in understanding. “Think on it, but do not dwell too long. This will be the first of many large decisions you will have to make as Herald of Andraste.”

* * *

 

It was a decision Rin couldn’t stop wrestling with. It plagued her for the next two days, and every time she tried to enjoy herself in this utopia-like community they had discovered, her mind brought the subject back up. Her companions were no help, either, since they all had already spoken their piece. Varric and Ket were both for the idea but didn’t really care either way so they didn’t count, Cassandra was adamantly for it, and Solas was adamantly against. And both brought up very valid points.

There were so many good reasons to stay here that the decision should have been an easy one. The people here were so kind. Held by a common bond of suffering and loss, they banded together closer than family. Humans and elves, even a few dwarves who found themselves here when the war reached their doors, all coexisted in unbreakable harmony. Nobody commented on her ears. Nobody mistook her for a servant and tried ordering her around. Whenever she walked with Ket or Cassandra, nobody assumed she belonged to either of them. Amongst themselves, they traded, talked, laughed. There was no alienage here, no separation. It was as if this ideal world Anais had painted for her really could exist.

This was how the cities should be, how the rest of Thedas should be.

Rin could not deny that a part of her desired to stay here and never step foot beyond these walls ever again, and the rest of the world could burn itself right to the ground. Here, the food was good, the beer was even better, and she wasn’t just another elf for the world to begrudgingly tolerate.

She scratched at her hand as she contemplated over her options. What was it that was making this so tough? Perhaps it felt too good to be true, so different from her experiences, exactly how she always imagined society was supposed to be.

The only drawbacks really were the gross art that decorated Winterwatch’s halls, and that weird devotional chant the people did every morning at the deep sound of a faraway bell. They had done it twice more now, and every time Rin asked Emilae about it, the teen just smiled and called it the “Chant of Light”.

That was no Chant of Light Rin had ever heard. She didn’t argue the point, however. If that’s how they did things, weird as it was, well, it was none of her business, really. “All who are worthy know the Chant of the Light,” Emilae said when Rin asked about it, that smile not leaving her face. “Of course you know it, don’t you, Lady Herald?”

“Y-yeah, of course.”

And then all of a sudden Rin’s lunch caught up to her, and she had to find the nearest chamber pot _immediately_ before Emilae could question her further. Rin had never really bothered to learn the Chant, and she correctly guessed that this was something a “Herald of Andraste” should be able to know forward and backward.

Ket caught up to her after she made her escape into the garden. “Where’ve you been?” she demanded. “You just disappeared for a while, and I had to deal with all this adoration by myself.”

“I was in the library. It’s _fantastic,_ by the way! Even the Circle didn’t have this many books.”

“Anybody ever tell ya you read way too much?” She slightly rolled her eyes.

“I read enough to remember about this keep,” he replied with a proud smirk. “I studied it a few years ago. The Tower was built for some noble’s son a long, long time ago. Back in the Exalted Age, I think?”

“This whole thing?” Rin asked as she looked around. “For one dude?”

“Oh, we haven’t even _seen_ how big this keep is, according to rumor. All this is just the front. Like, there’s supposed to be more, _way more,_ further back and in the mountain. Which would explain why so many people are able to thrive like this in one space. There’s probably enough room for them to keep animals and small farms and things like that.”

 _“Supposed_ to be,” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “These books of yours don’t know for sure?”

“That’s the thing,” and here Ket began bouncing on the balls of his feet like a giddy child with an exciting secret about to burst right out of him. Oh, here they went. Whenever he got like this, there was no escape from the onslaught of information about to come her way. “After the son’s death, nobody has been able to come here for the longest time. It all just kinda fell apart over the centuries. Historians had difficulty enough even trying to find it, and when they did, finally, they couldn’t get in. So a lot about Winterwatch is just pure speculation.” He grinned. “Until _now.”_

“Maker, you’re gonna write a book, aren’t you?” Rin groaned. “You’re such a _nerd.”_

He snorted. “Yeah, well, this _nerd_ is about to show you something really interesting. Come here.”

She very much doubted his definition of ‘interesting’ and hers added up to the same thing, but since she was hiding from Emilae’s Chant of Light interrogation, she might as well take him up on it. She followed Ket out of the garden, down a well-light hallway with sunlight streaming in through the windows into another, smaller courtyard. There was a gate here, too, with rusted iron bars wrapped in withered flora. The lock had been melted off. Impressed, she glanced at a very proud looking pyromancer, who opened the gate for them.

“Someone’s gonna get pissed at you for that,” Rin pointed out with a teasing grin.

He shrugged. “They can’t prove it was me.”

“Your _entire body_ is evidence.”

He waved a hand at her concern. “Coincidental, and nothing more. Come on.”

Rin wrapped her cloak around her tighter as Ket took her along a stone path that twisted up the mountain. The path was old and worn, crumbling in several places as roots and underbrush forced their way to the surface. It was slick from frost that had melted since this morning. It was colder than in the valley, now that they were further up a mountain. She stumbled a little bit here and there, cursing under her breath how disoriented the forest made her. She was never this clumsy in the city, _never_ lost her footing. Now she was stomping around like a drunk shem, trying to find secure places in the path to put her feet.

It only seemed to be getting steeper, and she realized she was falling a bit behind. _How is a_ shem _better at this than me!?_ her mind shrieked in mortified indignation. Determined, she picked up her pace only to trip on a particularly fat root dominating the stone. For a second, the world went blurry then blinding white when her face slammed into the ground.

“I hate the forest,” she sobbed into the dirt.

Her ears twitched when she heard Ket laughing at her, the brat. Pressing one hand into a nearby tree for support, he held out the other to her, which she took as she blushed with burning humiliation. The warmth of his palm trickled into her own and chased away the chill that had overcome her.

“I’m not normally like this,” she protested, determined to get some pieces of her shredded pride back.

“You’re not used to the woods, I get it,” he replied kindly. “You should have seen me when I first came up here. I was all over the place.”

This time he held onto her hand as they climbed the path together. “So… tell me more about this guy,” Rin spoke up, mostly to not think about how suddenly awkward she felt holding his hand like this. “This son who had a whole fort built for him. He sounds like a character.”

“Hmmmm,” Ket hummed in contemplation. “Actually, it’s been a while since I’ve read _Strange Histories,_ and even then that volume focused more on Winterwatch than the family who built it. I know his father was Bann at the time, and the son, well, I think he may have been the youngest? Oldest? He was the family disappointment.”

“I wish my dad built _me_ my own small town for bein’ a disappointment, damn.”

“I think it was more to force him to learn how to run the land. The son wasn’t really interested in politics or anything of the sort. He was an artist, actually. Spent all hours of his day just painting and painting. Probably why he was such a disappointment. It’s not like people respect you because you can draw.”

She stopped in her tracks, forcing him to stop with her. “You think those weird portraits might be his?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“He comes from a really ugly family, then, Maker’s boozy breath.”

He snorted, and they continued walking up the path. Each step made Rin all the more curious, and her mind began to wonder what could possibly be all the way up here that could be so interesting? She rubbed her left hand on her thigh.

“We’re getting close.”

The path curved once more and led them to a small clearing. Rin gasped and dropped Ket’s hand as she gazed up and up, her mouth open wide with shock. “Is this a _Chantry?”_ No, there was no way. A simple mountain Chantry couldn’t get this _big._

It was a massive cathedral of stone with towering buttresses arching high, so high, almost into the sky itself. Dark pinnacles pointed to the heavens like an army of spears, and even taller spires stood over them like watchful commanders. In the center stood a tower with black windows, and Rin now realized the source of the bell she heard for every morning devotional, the one that cued the refugees of Winterwatch to stop what they were doing and recite their strange version of the Chant. It was like staring up into the face of a colossal gray giant with many black eyes, and the tower back at Winterwatch was a mere dwarf in comparison.

“There is speculation that Winterwatch isn’t named for the keep but for this Chantry.”

“And this was just for some kid who sucked at being a noble?”

Ket shrugged again. “None of it adds up, I know. That’s why it’s such a weird mystery, and why historians keep trying to come back here even though they can’t get in. The only one who knows anything are the father and the son, and, well, they’ve been quite dead for a long time. Not exactly available of an interview, unless you’re a bloodmage I suppose.”

A chilled wind blew through the trees, a hushed sound that whistled through the bare branches that had long since lost their leaves. A forlorn howl, like that of a wolf, rose along with the breeze. Rin could smell a faint odor of copper.

“Rin, your hand!”

Startled, she looked at her left hand to see blood dripping from the deep scratches in her palm. She had scratched the skin clean off, and now the torn tissue pulsed an angry red. “I… I didn’t notice…”

He held her wrist, examining the damage. “The Mark’s hurting you again, isn’t it?”

“It’s been itching a little bit.”

He glared at her. “Why didn’t you say something?”

She glared back at him, annoyed. “You don’t tell people every time you wanna scratch your ass, do you?” she snapped.

“Fair enough.”

He ripped off a piece of his tunic at the hem, and wrapped the fabric around her palm to stop the bleeding. It throbbed and itched horribly, but she tried to keep herself from scratching it further and making it worse. “Thank you,” she said softly, suddenly embarrassed.

His fingers stroked hers for a moment before he let go of her hand.

To distract herself from how awkward she felt, she looked at the Chantry, this dark yet beautiful creature looming in this mountain where no one had laid eyes on it for centuries. “It reminds me of the old cathedrals in Antiva,” she remarked. “I used to love climbing them, see how high I could go.” This one wasn’t nearly as big as the ones in Antiva, not by a long shot, but it was still huge for something only needed to support a small mountain village.

“You want to go inside?” Ket asked mischievously. “I bet no one has stepped foot in there for Ages.”

She grinned as he appealed to her insatiable curiosity and sense of adventure. “Damn right we should go in.”

He leaned in closer. “And there’s no one around,” he whispered into her ear, his husky voice appealing to _other_ things within her. _Oh._

“Kitty-Ket,” she teased, her fingers rubbing on the makeshift bandage on her hand over and over again until the fabric was soaked in blood. “Are you tryin’ to _seduce_ me?”

The roguish smile he gave her made her want to drop her pants then and there. “Is it working?”

_Maker._

Her heart racing in her red ears, Rin laughed and approached the massive pair of doors made of some kind of thick, dark wood. Stone carvings peered down at her from the archway. At first glance, they were the faces of women looking serene and beautiful, but the longer she stared, the more twisted and grotesque their features became. Blood dripped down between her fingers. Her gut was telling her that she shouldn’t be here, and if there was one thing she trusted above all others, it was her gut.

Even so, she couldn’t deny that if Ket was actually _implying_ what he was implying, she didn’t want to pass this opportune moment. She often teased the idea of sleeping with him, and she couldn’t deny the attraction, because he really was a good-looking guy especially for a shem, and _Maker,_ the things he could do with that fire magic of his. Now that it was an actual possibility, she realized her desire was very, very real and its voracious hunger ate at her, overcoming the pain in her hand, the danger nagging at the back of her mind, the instinct that had kept her alive for so many years.

He stepped closer to her, and it was all she could do not to pull him down into the dirt with her and ride him here and now. Overwhelmed by this sudden lust, she turned to the door to pull it open.

To her unsurprised dismay, it was locked tight. Of course it would be. “Aheheh,” she laughed, glancing back at Ket and hoping this little setback wouldn’t kill the mood.

This was humiliating. Never once in all her trysts had anything ever gone less than exactly as she wanted. Now she was fumbling for her lockpicks to break into an abandoned Chantry with a boy like an inexperienced maiden playing things by ear and hoping she got a break somewhere before her self-consciousness ruined everything. “Um, yeah, so just hang on a minute, I’ll have this open in a – “

Sharp, blinding pain stabbed deep through her hand, chewing on the flesh of her arm as it crawled up to her shoulder. The cloth wrapped around her palm ripped apart when the Mark burst out of her skin, and the emerald coil twisted high in the air like a serpent. It slammed into the door in a shower of emerald sparks. The door smoked and burned but stood solid as the Mark tried to bore its way through the thick wood.

Trying to pull back the Mark was like trying to hold back a druffalo driven to an almost insane frenzy. Her feet dragged through the dirt as she desperately fought for her hand back. “Rin!” Ket grabbed her around the waist and tried to pull back with her. Her arm stretched and stretched, pain tearing through the tissue and the ligaments straining to their maximum and a terrifyingly hot sensation swept over her that her arm was going to be torn clean off. She screamed when something in her shoulder _slipped._

_“Elgar’banasahlin!”_

A jade spell circle of intricate design appeared beneath their feet as the barrier enclosed the pair in a shield of spirit magic. The edges sliced through the Mark like a sharp blade, and the green coil disappeared. The world spun as Rin collapsed, and then went mercifully dark.

* * *

 

She woke up alone in her room. Rin vaguely remembered Solas carrying her here, no doubt the one who kept the Mark from tearing her apart. Cassandra and Varric had been there, too, and they all scurried about to take care of her, resetting her shoulder, wiping the sweat from her brow, applying healing salves to numb the burning pain from deep within her skin. The whole time she had faded in and out, wanting to stay awake but too exhausted to do so. It was if the Mark had siphoned her very soul to energize itself.

Shivering, she sat up, her bell necklace releasing a tiny chime as it swayed, and looked at her hand. Her arm sat in a cloth sling, and her hand was heavily wrapped in gauze and a deep green cloth with strange symbols embroidered along the fabric with a lighter green thread. It made her a little sick looking at them as they swirled and twisted upon themselves, alive with magic. Her palm throbbed dully, angry but too weak to lash out.

The room glowed in a dull light for the torchlight didn’t seem to possess its usual warm glow. The shadows were so dark, she couldn’t even see the other end of the room, as if it stretched into the Void itself. Static hummed in the air, heavier than the last time she felt it. It wrapped around her, squeezing ever, ever so slowly, using tiny prickly claws to dig its way beneath her skin. For a moment, she was completely frozen in place, held tight by this icy force creeping over her.

“I just need some air,” she muttered to herself. The darkness was making her feel somewhat claustrophobic. Her stomach growled as she pulled her boots on her feet. Food would be good, too. And a bellyful of that wonderful beer could help her forget the embarrassment of earlier. So close to evolving her relationship with Ket into something new and exciting, something she didn’t even realize she had wanted until now, and then to have to fail so spectacularly. Her first failure, and one she didn’t think she could recover from.

The hallway was dark. Completely dark. Even with her elven eyes straining to take in as much light as any nocturnal creature, she could barely see anything. The sky outside the windows was black like night, but someone had apparently forgotten to light the torches. She peered out to see if anyone was loitering outside like usual and was greeted by a starless black sky and a dark landscape bathed in an eerie green glow.

Rin stepped away from the window until her back pressed against the wall across from it. Maybe she was loopier from her injuries than she thought. It was difficult to focus. The faint buzzing in her head made it hard to concentrate on anything.

_“Mwr MWR.”_

A sound like a cat came over her. She knew deep down that it was no cat. It was really close by, as if just outside one of the windows.

A faint glow down the hall caught her attention. It reminded her of the veilfire from that ancient elven ruin they had explored what felt like very, very long ago. Curious, she followed the light to see what it could be.

_Maker, what the fuck!?_

That’s what she screamed in her mind, but her voice lodged itself tight in her throat and refused to move.

It was that damned portrait again, the very one she saw her first night here. It glowed in an ethereal light that came from within it. And there was no mistaking it this time. The subject was looking straight at her.

She blinked, and its mouth was wide open, showing nasty, inhumanly sharp teeth.

She blinked again, and its claw-like hands were held up as if it was trying to break out of the canvas, a long tongue snaking from between those sharp teeth, eyes now nothing but dripping black sockets.

She blinked and only a blank canvas was there.

 _“Holy shit!”_ Rin shrieked and took off running back toward the room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Nope, she didn’t care if the room made her feel claustrophobic, she had no intention of staying in this hall longer than she had to. She could feel her heels as she sprinted with everything she had. She didn’t stop running until her own sides stabbed into her and a coughing spasm overtook her lungs begging for air.

Had she really come this far? She looked back where she had came, but she saw no trace of light from her room from beneath the door. Or no trace of that portrait for that matter.

She placed her hand on the wall and felt nothing but cold stone. She kept walking and walking, carefully, feeling for any sign of a door. Only stone. And more stone.

And then a sign of immense relief flowed from her chest when she felt the wood of her bedroom door. It really was a simple misjudgment of distance.

The door was kinda sticky. Her ears flattened when the overpowering smell came over her, a thick and organic odor. She stepped back and the door opened anyway, fiery light pouring into the hall.

This was definitely her room, the shadows were as dark as ever, and there were the blankets she had overturned when she climbed out of bed. Streaks of dark stains highlighted in crimson covered the wall as if bloody hands had dragged themselves all over the walls around her door.

No. More like those hands had been _scratching_ at the walls, determined to get in while she lay there.

_“MwwwwwwwrrrrrrRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”_

The catlike sound grew into a terrifying wail that no living creature was capable of making. It really was coming from outside.

“What is with this creepy ass place all of a sudden!?” she cried into nothing, backing away from the door. The hall had gotten significantly darker and now she couldn’t see anything at all but the room in front of her.

Her ears picked up a footstep from next to her. The footstep of a creature stalking its prey, and her mind immediately thought of the portrait. “There’s no way,” she whispered, her voice barely a squeak, and she laughed, small and shaking and in complete denial. “Paintings can’t _walk_ by themselves.” There was nowhere for Rin to run, not with absolute darkness surrounding her. She didn’t think she could fight back, anyway, her body had gone completely numb.

“Hey, Rin. Are you okay?”

Ket stood next to her, placing a tender hand on her shoulder. The torches illuminated the hall in a golden atmosphere, and Rin saw that the stains on the walls were no longer there.

“I… I think I’m goin’ crazy,” she admitted in a shaky voice, and she clung tightly to his arm. “I’m seein’ things, Ket. Things that shouldn’t be there!”

He nodded. “The Veil is thin here so the Fade bleeds into our world. Maybe the Mark makes you more sensitive to it?”

His words weren’t at all reassuring. In fact, it made her feel worse. “I’ve made my decision,” she said, her fingers tightening their hold on his arm. “I ain’t stayin’ in this creepy ass place another day. We leave tomorrow.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. “But first, maybe you want to eat something? I was actually coming to get you for dinner. It might help clear your head.”

Truth be told, she wasn’t really hungry. She had been until horrifying screams and stalker portraits terrified her appetite right out of her. But if Ket was hungry, she wasn’t going to let him leave her alone. “Yeah. Dinner sounds great.” She gave him a smile, hoping to ease his worries.

Still shaken by the weird things she had seen earlier even if they might not have been real, Rin kept her focus on Ket’s back as they walked together to the dining hall, not wanting to look at anything else in case more of the Fade or whatever bled through the thin Veil right in front of her eyes again. This was much nicer to look at. She put her hand in his, and he gave her fingers a little squeeze.

This was the second time today he had taken her hand and led her somewhere. Despite her earlier scare, Rin could feel a giddy sensation coming over her, an urge to dance. Ket always had that effect on her, didn’t he? He could always calm her no matter what the situation, like a friendly blaze in the hearth welcoming her home.

“So, you said the Fade is _bleeding?”_ she asked. “Solas said the same thing, kinda. Only more longwinded.”

“When the Veil gets too thin in certain places, our reality can be influenced by the Fade, yes,” he confirmed.

“Then you can see this creepy shit, too!”

“Sort of. Since reality is perceptive, I don’t see what you see. You don’t like the portraits in the hall. So the Fade warps them to you, even though everyone else might only see pretty art.”

Rin groaned. “The Fade is an _ass.”_

He chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

“You really know a bit about the Fade for someone who never seems to go there.”

“I read all about it in the Circle.”

“Of course you did.”

They entered the main courtyard, and it was completely empty. The wind whistled through barren space, dragging dead leaves across the stone ground. Branches of the tree in the courtyard’s center creaked and groaned like a lonely soul. The stars in the sky sparkled like usual, but they were dizzying to look at and gleamed like millions of tiny emeralds. Her eyes adjusted to the shadows and could see in certain dark places crumbling rock and black stains. As if this was how Winterwatch stood for those hundreds of years before Speaker Anais restored it, abandoned and rotting.

“Would you like to know the truth of this place? You’ll actually like this one.”

She glanced up at Ket, and his eyes seemed to glow. She quickly looked away, gazing back over the courtyard, not going to let the Fade fuck up Ket for her. “Sure.”

“There was a Bann who ruled this region during the Towers Age who had a beautiful daughter named Lilla. Just before she hit puberty, Lilla’s powers as a mage manifested as what happens with most mage children. She was incredibly powerful. She was a strange one, too, for she couldn’t control any of her abilities, but everywhere she went the Veil _warped_ around her as if reality couldn’t comprehend her existence. Now, her father couldn’t bring himself to send her to a Circle. She was his only child, after all. Oh, but how she begged to go. She knew the Rite of Tranquility would stop the nightmare of demons coming after her every moment, even when she was awake. Those things you saw in the hall? They don’t compare to the everyday terror she lived in.

“So, the Bann had a Chantry built just for her. He couldn’t trust the Circle to do anything about it other than make her Tranquil, but he knew the Chantry would have nothing to do with her. Instead, he trusted the Maker to cure his daughter. He hired a Mother and sisters and all of them to live with her in this church, to make her a laysister of sorts. Their own private Chantry. For a time, it seemed to work. Her daily devotionals to the Maker seemed to keep Lilla’s reality in check. Perhaps, all she really did need was some kind of anchor.

“But then her powers warped reality again, stronger than before. So strong that even the sisters saw things. Heard things. _Felt_ things. The Chantry turned into a death trap. The sisters would either kill themselves in a fit of insanity or attempt to flee only to be consumed by the growing darkness outside. Only the Mother remained, her sanity held together by her determination to protect this monster of a child. That’s where the demon found them, the Mother holding a sobbing girl in the middle of the carnage. The Mother’s desperate desire to keep the child safe and take all her pain away attracted it. It offered a deal. It could devour all the lesser demons that tormented the girl and finally give her peace. And the Mother, against everything she had been brought up to believe, everything she taught as a Chantry clergy, accepted.”

“Why?” Rin demanded so suddenly she slightly startled herself. “Why would she do that, she’s a Chantry Mother! Killing the child would have been more merciful. Why do these people _always_ resort to deals with demons?”

“Because what else do you do when no one is there is to help you?” Ket asked. “She wasn’t going to kill an innocent child she had come to love as a daughter. And it’s not like anything bad came out of it. Together, the Mother and the girl lived in peace and the waking nightmare was no more, all the way up until the child’s death. Conviction is a fine sentiment until reality and desperation collide. Did you not also give up your conviction when you realized how much better your situation became when you were taken from the alienage?”

She stiffened, narrowing her eyes. “I was only a child, then.”

“Does it matter? Adults still scramble for security and stability, just as they did when they were children. If security came with age, this world would be far different indeed.”

“But it’s a deal with a demon,” she insisted. “There’s no way any good came outta it. What did the demon want in return? Does your books say?”

He smiled at her.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Rin shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “I like it better when you would just babble on with your nerdy fun facts. Now you’re bein’ all cryptic.”

He took her hand again. “Come on, I’ll tell you all about it at dinner.”

The dining hall was filled to the brim with people bunching together thickly along the tables as if everyone in Winterwatch really did crowd in here. Usually, dinners at the keep were not such elaborate affairs, and here a feast was going on just like when they had first arrived here.

“What’s the occasion?” Rin asked.

“Cassandra told Speaker Anais that we were going to keep the Inquisition here.”

“What?” She gawked at Ket. “I thought that was supposed to be _my_ decision.”

“I guess you took too long.”

Not that Rin really wanted to be saddled with such a decision to begin with. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a little miffed that the Seeker had gone ahead and talked with Anais without so much telling her about it first. So typical of shems, doing their own damn thing without any regard for anything else.

Her ears pinned back at the buzzing of the squirming mass, fast chattering and shrieking laughter. The smell was no better, thick and coppery and strangely sweet. It was different somehow, and anxiety began to well up in her gut. The atmosphere less tried to coax her into a state of euphoria and more attempted to drag her down into it against her will. The torchlight that bathed the room in shades of red and gold made her head spin a little. She realized she held Ket’s hand in a death grip. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by anything in here, however. The Fade was fucking with her again.

_Is this what it was like for that poor girl?_

“You and that Mark are a little different,” Ket spoke up, and Rin wondered if she had said her thought out loud. “It’s magic embedded in a person who isn’t a mage. An unnatural bond. Basically, you two don’t get along, and the Mark is retaliating by twisting the Veil around you.”

Well, that certainly didn’t ease her anxiety any. “Anyone ever told ya that you read way too much?” She said it jokingly, and she thought she was smiling but she couldn’t really feel her face.

“You did, actually, earlier today.” He handed her a mug filled with that beer. “I’ll go grab us something to eat. Drink up. You’ll feel much better.”

There was no way in the Void Rin wanted to wait here by herself, but she nodded anyway and even forced to give him a pleasant wave as he walked away. It was all in her head, after all. Everything was fine. She would drink this delicious, wonderful beer that would leave her warm and euphoric inside, and things would go back to normal. Then she would have a really fun time with Ket. Perhaps even pick up where they left off this afternoon.

As she raised the mug to her lips, her ears twitched. On the surface, it sounded like a party but now that she listened, actually _listened,_ it was something else entirely. Laughter shrieked, more delirious than humorous, and the chattering sounded like nonsensical babble she couldn’t understand no matter how much she tried. The music was wild, the high notes of the pipes and fiddles chasing each other in a frenzy along the feverish rhythm of drums in a dizzy cacophony.

And eating. So much eating.

Moist, squishing, tearing, chomping, hungry, so very hungry…

Rin stared at the people. They all wore dark clothing and squirmed around each other like animals feeding at a troth, like a massive plump black worm chewing, chewing, _chewing_. Pulpy chunks of an unknown meat slid off the edges of plates and overeager crimson hands to splat wetly on the slick floor. Sickened, she glanced down at her mug again, and it no longer looked like beer but dirty pond water with strange organisms trying to climb out to the surface.

The mug shattered at her feet.

She ran to find Ket in the direction he had gone, but the crowd pushed against her. She fought through their bodies squishing hotly against her own, rubbing on her, clawing at her. Tongues with rotten meaty breath licked her face, and sharp teeth nipped at her ears. “Get off!” she cried, pushing back, punching if she had to, her arm screaming in its sling when bodies pushed against it. She couldn’t even get a good look at what they really were. Their faces were shadowy in their cloaks and all she could see was many pairs of green orbs that resembled goats’.

Fear and desperation pumped through her veins in a rush of adrenaline that made her punch and kick and scratch without thinking. Now, she no longer wanted to find Ket. Now, she just wanted out of here, as far away from this fucked up tower as possible. A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, making her thrash harder.

“Rin, it’s okay,” Ket said softly in her ear. “It’s okay, it’s _me.”_

She whirled around and buried her face in his chest, her anchor in this dark reality. He was so warm and smelled so –

A musky odor of sex and destruction and an uncontrollable inferno invaded her senses, and she shoved away from him. He grinned at her. That grin didn’t reach his eyes, his bright green eyes with horizontal pupils. “You’re not Ket,” Rin said at length, her voice shaking.

The thing that looked exactly like Ketthan Trevelyan and absolutely wasn’t shook its head with a soft tsk-tsk of pity. “Oh, sweet Rinlyra, if only you drank the beer and joined us in this euphoric paradise.” His sneer was wide, too wide, and horns spiraled out of his head like a ram’s, and a long tail coiled around his feet from behind him. Only a loincloth and golden jewelry adorned his otherwise bare body. The demon kept his face, however. Golden bracelets gleamed wickedly in the light, and clinked together when he lifted her chin with a long nail curved like a talon.

“You have to admit it, I wear this meatsuit way better.”

She swallowed hard. “I, uh, I gotta admit I appreciate you lettin’ me see him nearly naked and everythin’,” she said, clinging to as much of her cool as she could with the only coping mechanism she had – crude humor. “And I kinda like the tail. But I don’t exactly appreciate you possessin’ him.”

He laughed as he let her chin go, and she fought very, very hard not to think about how sexy it sounded, a dark promise of carnal nights she could never imagine in her wildest fantasies. He sashayed away from her, tail swinging with each sway of his hips. “Oh no, that’s not necessary here, not in _my_ domain.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m in the Fade?”

“No, but you are on its _edge._ Its front yard, so to speak.”

As calm as she tried to force herself to be, she took a step back in surprise. “This…”

He swept his arm in a grand gesture. “…is reality.”

The crowd applauded politely as if the demon had made some grand speech.

“After centuries’ long famine, your cute little mage rebellion has allowed me to feast on the desires of security and peace until I became _bloated_ with power. I’ll have to be more watchful of my figure.” He rubbed his stomach, fingers running over the defined muscle, and Rin had to bite her lower lip to hold back the lusty request to rub it for him. Oh, this demon was _dirty,_ using Ket’s face and body to twist her delicate senses like this.

“So, you’re the Desire demon I hear so much about,” she said.

“That is one of my titles. Pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Herald. I’ve been waiting a long time for you to come near my domain.”

“I’m… honored, I guess,” she replied. Exchanging pleasantries with a demon was something Rin never imagined she would be doing, but there was no way she could fight this thing. She didn’t think she could even if she wasn’t alone. Not with that face. “But what did you do with the others? And where is Ket if that’s not his actual body you’re waltzin’ around in?”

“Don’t fret, your boyfriend is perfectly safe and in one piece. For now. He’s more useful to me than just a costume.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Fine. Your dream fuck.”

“Hey!” Her fear began to dissolve before her rising anger, and her fist clenched at her side. “He’s more than any of that, okay? So how ‘bout we turn the respect dial up a notch or two, yeah?”

Desire stalked back to her, his smile dark and sexy, tail slowly swaying back and forth by his feet. “I know, I know, he means the world to you, blah blah. I hear it all the time from my clients. And in the end, it’s all the same. In the end, we are just beasts. Don’t pretend otherwise, I can _smell_ your desire. Your mortal sentimentality doesn’t want to admit that _I’m_ the better package. I even come with the tail.”

He paused, considering. “Though I suppose if you _really_ want the prat, I can make that possible. I’ll make it so that he is _devoured_ by his desire. He’ll drown in his desperation to please you with each breath he takes. Not that it’s much of a stretch, really. Boy wants to plow you like fresh spring field, so one whisper of my influence, and he practically did all the work for me.”

Memories of this afternoon came flooding back to her. “You used him to lure me to the Chantry,” she concluded.

“You’re so smart,” he replied, and ruffled her hair.

“Uh uh!” she snapped, dipping from his touch. “Only _Ket_ gets to rub my head like that.”

He smirked. “Then let me rub you in other ways.”

“You got hard game, I’ll give ya that. But you want somethin’. You demons _always_ want somethin’. And nothin’ ever good.”

Desire shrugged nonchalantly. “Only according to the perspectives of others. And we both know nothing in this world or outside it is free. Tell me, did you truly not appreciate the gifts I’ve offered you these past few days?”

“Gifts?”

“Come on, you’ve been so good at keeping up so far. Don’t falter now.”

“Andraste’s cunt, the people – “

He clapped, slow and patronizing. “Excellent. Yes, the people here. Of all the desires I have tasted, yours is one of the most narcissistic and ambitious. Quite delicious, actually. These people worship the very ground you walk on, and you _love it._ They treat you, a scraggly, disgusting little knife-ear, as their _better,_ these humans who are _oh so willing_ to crawl through the filth begging to live or die just for your mere amusement. They shower you with gifts of riches and their bodies, all at your command and disposal once you’ve had your fun with them.”

“H-hey…”

“Humans are the best fucks, aren’t they? They are the stupidest and most overeager, right? They squirm beneath you, begging, begging, their disgusting hands grabbing clumsily at your body, and then when they finally come, they arch and expose their suddenly very vulnerable throats to you.”

“But I’ve never – “

“Never what? Slit that pleading throat? No. But you’ve _wanted_ to. You’ve _always_ wanted to. You use humans just like they’ve used your people, but something keeps you from taking that final step.”

“It’s not like that, I’m better than that! I don’t waste life like they do!”

“You’ve certainly killed plenty in the past month.”

“In self-defense!”

“But was it _really?”_

“Stop! I don’t have to listen to this! Your kind lies and twists things, anyway!” She had covered her ears, an almost instinctive reaction to the demon’s words as she couldn’t recall when she did it. Her sling swung at her elbow and her arm ached.

Desire burst out laughing, and it echoed all around her as the crowd picked up on it, bleating like sheep. “Is that what the Chantry tells you? And I suppose they were right about your darling mage boyfriend, too, weren’t they? About how he’s nothing more than a monster that needs to be contained, brutalized, whipped into submission for the good of society?”

“No, that’s – !”

“Different?” He chuckled again. “Again with trying to justify going against your own so-called conviction. _That’s different! It’s not the same!_ You mortals are so choosy about what you believe is true or not, it’s ridiculous. Haven’t I already told you? Conviction is nothing more than a nice sentiment, and dies just as easily when reality strikes.”

He took her wrists in his hands, gently, a light and almost tender touched, and lowered her hands from her ears. “I am the embodiment of mortal desire, the incarnation of all pleasures simple and complex mortals wish to experience before their inevitable demise. I do not, cannot, thrive on lies. Sweet as they might be, they are empty crumbs that give me nothing, and don’t compare to the savory truths of one’s deepest desires. And yours fill me with such _sustenance.”_

“I really, really don’t wanna hurt anyone,” she protested, but her own voice didn’t convince her at all.

“For now. But here, that can change. These humans are inconsequential to you. So go ahead. Use them, fuck them, eat them, let your desires run uninhibited by morals of a society that has always oppressed you. Be the beast you know you are. I’ll make you strong as Herald of Andraste, and they will all flock to you like sheep.”

“There are elves here, too.”

“So? What have elves ever done for you? What has _any of them_ ever done for you? Even that one elf companion of yours, skulking around in my domain like a pest, covered that annoying Mark of yours which allowed me to get close to you to begin with.”

“Solas saved me.” She muttered the words.

“He wanted to know what he was dealing with, and used you as bait. I fell for it, but I don’t mind. The price was very much worth it. I’m not like Pride. So long as I get what I want, none else matters.”

She remained silent because, really, that didn’t surprise her at all. Of course, Solas would do something like that. Of course, they would all turn against her one day. Even her own desire for Ket had now betrayed her.

Desire cupped her hand with a gentle touch and tilted her face to his. He really did look like Ket, didn’t he? And, not so deep down, she wanted to believe it was really him. “I will leave you with one last gift, Rinlyra,” he said in that voice so sweet and so warm. His lips touched hers, so tender. She sank into his kiss as his warm tongue slipped between her lips.


	8. Those Who Are Worthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winterwatch mini-arc comes to its horrific conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun with this arc. A LOT of fun. Like this has probably been the most fun I've had while writing fic in a long, long time. It actually kind of saddens me that it has to end, but I think we've lingered here too long already and it is now time to move on. However, these are the themes I've very much wanted to explore for Inquisition, demons and zealots and the like, which I feel like the game has completely skimped over. Winterwatch may have come to end, but expect a lot more experiences like these as the fic progresses. 
> 
> Also, um, I will leave it up to your imaginations if things happen between Rin and desire!Ket. I MIGHT elaborate on that later depending on my schedule. For now, enjoy the chapter!

_“Blessed are they who mourn for they shall be comforted.”_ – Gospel of St. Matthew 5:3

 _“Of all the threats from beyond the Veil, few are more insidious and deceptively deadly than the desire demon.”_ – Dragon Age Wikia

* * *

 

Cold.

His breath drifted from his lips in a thin tendril of smoke. He tried to move his arms, to sit up, but his body was overwhelmingly heavy. For a terrifying moment, panic washed over Ketthan like an icy tidal wave. For a terrifying moment, he was convinced he had never left that little room in the Circle, that everything he had experienced was nothing more than a daydream his brain escaped to in order to hide from the horror they forced upon him every day. He thought he could still hear their voices. Voices of the adults talking about him like he was some kind of anomaly, something to be cut open and inspected further.

When his eyes focused, he saw that the room was much different than the one from back then, its sheer size alone confirming that he was somewhere new. The stone walls shone red from dozens, _hundreds,_ of white candles flickering from all around him. Despite their fire, it was still cold, yet not cold enough to incapacitate him, not like back then. Then he realized he was cold because he was lying on something cold and smooth, like a table made of solid marble. And he was naked. Something else was keeping him from using his magic. A drug, maybe, for he felt hazy and confused and unable to draw enough strength to create a spark.

“Where – ?” The word scraped against his dry throat, and his tongue lounged thickly between his lips, refusing to budge, so all that came out sounded more like a hoarse _“whe”_. He remembered taking Rin to see the Chantry he found, spouting out words that he felt he had no control over, his more-than-usually-intense desire to be with her clogging up his entire brain. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember how he _found_ that building in the first place. For some reason, he had been just spouting off a bunch of horseshit to be alone with her.

Which wasn’t really him, either.

His head started to prickle with the slightest heat. Ket ran a temperature whenever he thought too hard, which had been a huge joke for a while until they realized his magic was responding and building on his frustration. He could regulate it more now that he was older, but in this moment, that was no longer possible. Perhaps it was a sign that the drug was wearing off.

Movement caught his eye, and he lifted his head as he strained to see who was in here with him. Emilae, wearing a heavy dark robe, approached the altar, gliding like a dark wraith to his drug induced mind. She held a silver dagger in one hand, and a small paintbrush in the other.

“Emi… lae… help…”

Ket only said anything due to the desperation of his situation. His common sense told him that she was not here to help him at all considering the blade of that nasty looking dagger shining in the candlelight. She smiled down at him, a smile that didn’t reach those blank eyes at all. “I am helping, Ketthan,” she said sweetly.

His arm hung limp and didn’t struggle at all when she took it in her tiny hand and drew the blade across his skin. The blade was so sharp, all he could feel was the heat bubbling to the surface as his blood poured out of the wound. She then held his arm over a silver goblet, etched with strange symbols he didn’t recognize, in order to catch the blood.

“You’ve been chosen, Ketthan,” she continued as she watched his blood fill the cup. “Your magic is going to bring us to the Maker at last! So many mages have tried before, but we learned that they weren’t worthy. They weren’t as powerful as you are. Speaker Anais says that she’s never met a mage as powerful as you. She says you are a very rare breed, a myth.”

 _Rare breed._ His heart sped up with fresh terror. The adults in that room… they had called him that, too.

She dipped her paintbrush in the goblet and began drawing on his face. Ket gagged, and nearly choked on his heavy tongue. The thick odor of old copper bits slowly suffocated him, and it was made worse by the knowledge that this blood was his own. “Why need me if the Maker can take you Himself?” he demanded, managing to draw enough defiance to actually speak in a complete sentence.

“We can’t do this on faith alone,” she replied as if the answer should have been obvious. “We have to _prove_ to the Maker we are worthy to be at His side. We have to offer a good enough sacrifice. And the Lady Herald provided, just as He said she would.”

Enough pieces fell together to shake Ket out of most of his drugged trance and embers glowed at his fingers. “Are you all really that _stupid!?_ You’re just using blood magic to – _mmmmmmmmfffff!!!”_

Emilae placed a wet cloth over his mouth and nose, holding him in place, and he was unable to breathe anything except the noxious fumes of some liquefied herb that soaked the fabric. The domed ceiling above him darkened. The ceiling had been painted on long ago, and for a split second the artwork shone with bright clarity. Hundreds of dark monsters, deformations of creatures not animals but not people either, with toothy maws and long tongues and blazing green eyes, all seemed to stare straight at him, their long talons pressing outward as if they were trying to tear themselves out of the ceiling and feast on his magic.

“You are chosen, you are worthy,” Emilae’s voice said from somewhere very far away just before he passed out completely. “Rejoice.”

* * *

 

Every limb in Rin’s body hurt as if her body was trying to stab itself with its own joints. Her bones felt heavy, stiff, frozen. Her hands slid along the chilled stone floor she laid on. Her head pounded angrily, and her spine creaked in protest as she slowly sat up. Her left arm ached in agony. She wasn’t wearing her normal clothes, but a pure white robe – at least it would be pure if it hadn’t gotten dirty from the floor. Nothing underneath.

It was cold and damp, and the air raised goosebumps along her skin. The torches on the walls were few and far between, and their weak light could barely make a dent in the darkness. Her eyes adjusted, and she could make out thick iron bars lined in front of her.

“What a _jerk!”_ she shrieked, grabbing at the bars as if her anger alone could pry them apart. “He says all those things to me, even k- _kisses_ me, and then dumps me in a _dungeon!?”_ They didn’t even get to do any of the fun stuff, not that she could remember. Her body was stiff and cold, but otherwise nothing felt out of the ordinary. Except for the robe she was suddenly wearing. And all her other clothes missing, including her underthings.

“To be honest with you, miss, none of the men here are exactly what we’d consider _crème de la crème,”_ a voice, heavy and male, remarked from across the room just beyond her cage. “So you’re the one they call Herald of Andraste. I’ve heard about you even from all the way down here. The guards can’t seem to shut up about you.”

Rin crept closer to see a man with a thick black beard sitting in another cell. He reclined against the wall, glaring at her. “How about it, _Herald?_ Why don’t you call upon the Maker and ask Him to get us out of this prison?”

“Doesn’t work like that,” she snapped, irritated that she had to figure a way out of here while dealing with a mouthy shem in the process.

“Of course not. It _never_ works like that.”

“Maybe I can ask the Maker to let _me_ out, and leave your ass here to rot, _shem,_ how ‘bout that?”

“Alright, alright, calm down. I’ve been down here for about a week now, so forgive me if I don’t have a good grasp on social etiquette anymore.” Rin picked up a tone beneath that snark as if he really did mean his somewhat apology.

“Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Gordon Blackwall’s my name, but ‘Blackwall’ does just fine. I’m a Grey Warden. I came across this keep looking for shelter, and then next thing I know, I’m a prisoner for a Maker-damned _cult._ Just my luck, I suppose.”

“A Grey Warden,” Rin groaned.

“Something wrong with that?”

“My sister is one.”

“Well, slap my ass and call me Gertrude, small world, isn’t it?”

“Your sarcasm is not helpin’ us get outta here any faster, bud.”

“Sometimes sarcasm is all a man has to keep going,” Blackwall replied. “There is no getting out of here, _Herald._ You may as well get comfortable.”

She sighed. “Just call me ‘Rin’. ‘Herald’ still sounds a little weird to me.”

“ _Rin,_ is it? I expected more apostrophes in there, but nice to meet you all the same. So, Miss Rin, are you _really_ the Herald of Andraste or is this some master scheme to take advantage of desperate people? Genius, if a bit fucked up.”

“I really am the Herald of Andraste,” Rin shot back. “Look.” She started unwrapping the cloth and gauze from her hand, and Blackwall even leaned over a bit with genuine interest. She held up her hand, showing her palm to him.

“Okay. What am I looking at?”

Try as she might, the Mark didn’t stir. “The hell?” she muttered, staring at her palm with the torn red skin still trying to heal. “It’s been actin’ weird, but I could still get it to come out sometimes.”

He arched a thick eyebrow. “Come out?”

“The Mark! The magic of the Mark! I can close rifts with it and kill demons, but it’s not doin’ anythin’!” Her teeth gritted in frustration, unable to figure out why she could never control this damn thing. “I don’t get it…”

“It’s alright, miss. You don’t have to prove anything. I believe you.”

She looked at him, and now it was her turn to doubt. “You do?”

“Let’s just say I know what the face of a liar looks like, and yours isn’t it, unbelievable as you sound. Which brings us back to what we were originally discussing. The Maker really can’t open the prison doors for you if you ask?”

“I… I haven’t really tested it,” she admitted. “I guess I can try.”

Rin sat on her knees, delicately folding her hands together in front of her chest, her head bowed slightly, the most pious position she could imagine. This was how Luey prayed in the alienage’s tiny chapel every afternoon. For the longest time, Rin couldn’t understand how her sister could believe so strongly in the Maker after all the awful things she had experienced, but in time, she came to believe for herself even if not nearly as devoted. It was kind of nice, sometimes.

“Um… so, Maker. Hey, it’s me, Rin. Your Herald of Andraste. I know I’m no good at this, but, ah, if you could open these prison cells for us, uh, we would greatly appreciate it. Um. Thanks.”

Of course, nothing happened.

“Great effort,” Blackwall muttered.

“Hey, I _tried!_ I don’t exactly pray to the Maker all that often, okay.”

“I was actually giving you a compliment that time. It was a little rough around the edges, but more sincere than most other prayers I’ve heard. Hmm… maybe those cultists are onto something, and you really do gotta sacrifice a goat for the Maker to hear you. Roll around in blood, and all that. The guards keep talking about that, too. Something, something, waiting for the Herald of Andraste, that they’ve been provided with a suitable sacrifice perfect for ushering those who are worthy to the Maker’s side. So they say.”

Rin’s eyes widened when she caught the phrase. “Those who are worthy?” That sounded familiar, and not in a good way.

“They say that _a lot_ down here. As if it’s all they think about.”

“And I guess _we’re_ the sacrifices then?”

“That would be my luck. I don’t know why they’d want an old Warden, though. They hardly even know I exist except to feed me. I’m not even sure exactly _what_ I’ve been eating, either, but at this point I can’t complain.”

The visceral feast Rin had witnessed came back to her in a grisly flash, and she felt her stomach lurch at the possibilities of what creature those guts and meaty flesh had once belonged. Blackwall could see her horrified conclusions written plainly on her ashen face. “It was probably cat or something, I hear them a lot down here. Scratching at the walls and yowling at all hours. At any rate, if we have yet to be sick, then it probably wasn’t anything too terrible.”

Choking back her bile, she nodded. It didn’t really matter right now, anyway. Raising her hands to her hair, she fiddled beneath her thick ponytail. There had to still be a few lying around – aha! “Got one!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

“One what?” Blackwall asked.

“The key to freedom, shem, the key to freedom.”

“A pair of _hairpins?”_

“I don’t wear my hair up for my looks.” She paused, considering. “Okay, partially for my looks. And the weather, north Thedas is really fuckin’ humid. Now, shush. I only got one pair of these babies, I think my hair ate the rest.”

“O… kay.”

The minutes crawled by as Rin fiddled with the lock, slipping the hairpins through the dark hole to touch the tumblers just right. Her eyes ached, her pupils dilated to the point of all but covering her irises. This would have been impossible if she were human, a thought she didn’t want to entertain any further. She licked the salty bead of sweat forming on her upper lip. _Come on, baby, give it up for me, give it up!_

They were so fucked if these pins broke. She didn’t think about what they were going to do if that happened. She didn’t think about anything but the task before her, half-blind wiggling trying to find the perfect angle that would open the lock. Prison locks were typically uncomplicated contraptions. People relied more on guards to catch escaping prisoners than actually preventing them from escaping in the first place, probably to give the guards something exciting to do every once in a while.

But this lock was old and rusted with age and creaked with irritation at the slightest move of her hand. It was amazing they had managed to lock it to begin with.

A sudden _snap!_ startled Blackwall, but Rin sat back sighing with relief, releasing all the air she didn’t even realize her lungs had been holding. Her door squealed as she opened it and stepped out, stretching. Freedom always felt so good. “You did it!” the Warden cried in amazement.

There was no time for celebrating, however. “I’ll be back for you, promise!” Rin told him.

“Wait, you’re _leaving_ me here!?” He leaped to his feet

“Aaah, well… here.”

She reached through the bars and placed the pair of hairpins in his hand. “Careful, the locks are a little rusty. I gotta get!”

“Herald!” Blackwall yelled after her as she jogged away.

“If you don’t get out yourself, we’ll get ya out, _promise! Swear to the Maker and all that!”_ Rin called back over her shoulder.

_“You’re a damned scoundrel! Herald my ass!”_

Blackwall continued to yell, but Rin tuned him out and when she ran far enough down the hall, she couldn’t hear him at all. She needed to get as far away as possible in case his loud shem mouth attracted the guards.

Though she had yet to encounter any guards at all.

She slowed down and hugged the dark shadows of one wall, pressing her back as close into the darkness as possible. Footsteps caught her attention, but she couldn’t see anyone, as if they were walking just beyond the walls. The sound echoed all around her, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly which direction she should avoid. She knew she would just have to play things by ear at this point.

But she couldn’t move.

Static pressed against her head once again, weighing down on her until her skull felt too heavy for her neck, and it lulled from shoulder to shoulder to take some of that weight off. The Mark didn’t react this time, however. Whatever Solas had done to it, it had been more than just wrap a pretty magical handkerchief around her hand. “Just when I’ll actually need you, too,” Rin muttered at her unresponsive palm.

For the first time in perhaps ever, she questioned the wisdom of her choices. Not something she was used to doing. She always had a way out so even stupid decisions that nearly got her killed could be just the back way in of opportunity. This time was a bit different, and she kind of wished she did bring Blackwall with her. In any case, his company would have been some small comfort. She couldn’t stop thinking about the hall just outside her room. There were no portraits out here, thank the Maker, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being closely watched.

She moved from shadow to shadow along the dungeon halls. The footsteps stayed with her, but she never saw another soul for the footsteps were always just outside her line of sight. She came across several prison cells but they were all empty of anything living. Only ancient bones and decaying rat feces sat in these prison cells. Well, one cell had an actual dead rat lying on its floor, recent even, flies buzzing around the carcass and crawling along the bulged eyes. It reminded Rin of the gruesome feast, and she gagged, running past the cell as quick as possible.

There was no one else here. No other prisoners, no guards, and the dungeon was such a maze that she couldn’t go back to Blackwall. Retracing her steps only seemed to make her more lost. If she was retracing them at all.

The yowling in the walls started up again, nothing like any cat she had ever heard, not any cat in _this_ world, anyway. They drifted through the dim corridors like an ominous wind of a desolate wilderness, moaning through the empty prison cages. The torchlight flickered, brightening and then dimming considerably before brightening again.

“It’s just the Fade,” she whispered to herself, trying to find comfort in her own voice. “Just the Fade fuckin’ with ya, yeah. That’s all.”

A hand came down on her shoulder, and she was prepared this time. She swung around with a yelp, and struck out with her fist.

“Whoa, _shit!”_ Blackwall cried, catching her fist in his hand. “You’re a jumpy one.”

Rin took a few steps back in surprise. “You… you got out!”

“No thanks to you, Herald, you _abandoned_ me,” the Warden growled indignantly.

“Hey, I left you my hairpins, didn’t I?”

“And a lot of good that done me. My door opened just after you left.”

She blinked, wrapping her mind around what he just said. “It just… opened? Like that?”

“Yes. I almost stayed in my cell because I thought it was a trap. Then I realized I had to follow you, an ill-equipped young lady rushing headfirst into unknown danger.”

“You’re not exactly _equipped_ either,” Rin shot back, making pointed looks at the cloth rags he had been reduced to.

“It’s the Warden in me. At any rate, two is better than one in this messed up place.”

“I’ll give you that.” She even smiled a little, relieved that she did end up with some company, after all.

It was as if the Fade was just _waiting_ for her to drop her guard.

Rin didn’t see the shadow growing behind her on the wall. Blackwall’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “Miss, you need to move now!”

Hands burst out of the inky darkness that seeped out from the shadow, and their long fingers grabbed at Rin’s body before she could move an inch. They dug into her arms and wrapped around her sides, and no matter how much she kicked and screamed, it was impossible to make them let go of their squeezing grip. “Blackwall!” she shrieked in panic as the hands began pulling her into the shadow. _“Blackwall!”_

She struggled forward, reaching as far as she could for Blackwall’s hands. “I got you, miss!” he assured her as he grabbed hers. “Just don’t let go!”

“Like I plan to!”

Something coiled from the darkness above her, something like a snake. It slammed into Blackwall, forcing him to let go of her hands. Rin screamed as she watched it engulf the Warden like a boa consuming a mouse. She couldn’t stop screaming, even when a sulfuric hand wrapped around her mouth. She screamed as she gagged, as the air depleted from her lungs, as the hands pulled her _into_ the wall, into that slurping, oozing blackness.

Her stomach churned with violent waves of nausea, and she couldn’t breathe at all when there was nothing but darkness all around her.

Then she was lying on a floor staring up at a vast dome ceiling decorated with the very same artwork she had been seeing throughout Winterwatch. Shadows danced on the walls from candlelight that flickered in the eyes of a few hundred people wearing black robes. They sat in pews lined in long, neat rows in front of her and from the balconies overlooking the sanctuary.

“Welcome, Herald of Andraste!” a female voice boomed over the crowd. Applause and cheers broke out as Rin quickly stood to her feet, brushing the dirt off her robe. Those cheers did sound enough like people, not like the bleating of sheep, and she couldn’t tell which was worse. All these shems and even elves in the crowd, none of them had any intention of helping her. “Praise the Maker! Blessed be to the Herald of Andraste!” they sang.

It smelled horrific in here, a rancid odor like rotten meat and lots of blood.

Speaker Anais stood at the front of the church, holding her hands toward Rin in exaltation. Emilae stood next to her, her face a complete blank. And behind them stood a massive altar surrounded by hundreds of candles, blood dripping from the surface where –

 _“Ket!”_ she shrieked, adrenaline pumping in her veins as her body prepared to race down the aisle and rescue him.

_I wouldn’t do that jussst yet._

A voice tugged at her ears. No, more like from _inside_ her head, whispering in lazy little hisses as if the invisible speaker was in no hurry to get to the end of its sentence.

_Look by your feeeeet._

The floor just beneath the pews seemed to move like a dark ocean, ripples and waves churning this way and that. Then Rin realized that she was looking at snakes, hundreds and hundreds of snakes rolling and writhing around each other. They didn’t come near her, even as some raised their heads to hiss at her when she had taken a step forward before the voice stopped her.

She was standing on a dark crimson circle etched with horrific looking symbols. The barrier it created kept her in place, holding her prisoner. _Maker…_

Blood magic, she was sure of it. In her almost twenty-three years of life, Rin had never encountered blood magic before. She worked with Carta and elven thieves’ guilds, and left the mages and Templars to sort out their own issues. Demons, blood magic, snakes… she didn’t sign up for any of this shit.

She had only ever wanted to protect something important to her. Swell job she was doing so far!

 _Heee’sss aliiive,_ the voice in her head drawled. _But not for loooong. Sssooon they will cuuuut him uuuup into aaalll the tiiiiny pieces they neeeed. Not that they neeeed it. But it’ssss a fuuuun sshow, issssn’t iiiit?_

The applause and praise died down and the snakes parted, scales scraping across the floor as Speaker Anais walked toward Rin. She wore no jewelry, no elaborate garments, her feet were bare, and her simple white robe hung open to display her naked body. Her eyes flashed, wild like her hair. She was as powerful as ever, stalking toward her like wilderness feline stalking its prey. Rin swallowed hard, her knees beginning to tremble, the desire to fall before this woman in worship next to crushing. The voice in her head hissed, and she could feel its _sneer._

She clenched her fists, and the pain of her nails digging into the tender skin of her left palm keeping her grounded.

The dark congregation began reciting that horrific version of the “Chant of Light” in its strange language. Their voices united in a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate all the way through her feet. It stopped when Anais stood toe to toe with Rin, just outside the circle. “Herald of Andraste, we welcome you to the Judgement. Long have we waited for your arrival to place your judgement on us and bring those who are worthy to the side of the Maker!”

The congregation chanted louder, swaying from side to side. That phrase again. It was beginning to piss her off.

“I’m not going to pass judgement or anything like that,” Rin hissed, sounding eerily like the disembodied voice. “All I do is close rifts. _That’s_ why I’m here.”

She couldn’t stop seeing Ket lying there on the altar, surrounded by candles like a sacrificial goat, threads of blood webbing down a very lifeless arm, dripping from very still fingers. If the voice was telling the truth and he was alive, it was barely.

Anais blinked rapidly at her words as if she could barely contain her surprise, that blank smile remaining plastered to her face. Rin wanted nothing more than to punch that perfectly bowed ruby mouth.

“You _are_ the Herald of Andraste, are you not?”

Anais’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes had gone dark. Rin wasn’t going to be intimidated by that look was as familiar as a family face. This was a look of nothing more than a shem not getting her way.

Rin threw her shoulders back, only sixty-two inches and using every single one to make herself appear as tall as possible. “And don’t you doubt it for a second,” she shot back. “You say you want my judgement? Then release the mage. He has nothing to do with this.”

That smile turned into a toothy grin that distorted Anais’s face into some kind of human monster. “Herald, you brought the sacrifice to us.” Her voice was so low compared to the loud chanting in the background, but Rin could hear every word. “Oh, I confess, there was a time when we weren’t waiting for you. Mage after mage, we tried and failed. They were weak, and the Maker was displeased with each. Then lo, the Maker spoke to me and said that the Herald of Andraste would appear with the hole in the sky, and that will be the day when we go to His side. ‘But what would we do without a sufficient sacrifice?’ The Maker told me to fear not for the Herald would provide.”

She held out an arm toward the altar. “Behold, a sacrificial lamb more than worthy to bring us to the Maker at last. The Herald provided us with a mage of vast power unlike any that has ever been seen before, a _rare breed._ A miracle.”

_Yoooou don’t knooow the ssssigniiificance of the creeeatuuure you’ve been draaaaging all over Theeeedas, doooo you?_

Rin was shaking all over, fear and rage nauseously mixing together.

“The Breach created a hole in the sky, just as the Maker told me. A sign of the end, the sign of your coming, Herald of Andraste! All believers have now gathered to me as we waited for you. And now our waiting is over! Emilae, begin the ritual!”

The girl finally moved as if she were just a marionette waiting for someone to pull her strings. In her hand gleamed a ceremonial dagger, its sharp blade already stained dark, dark crimson. “No, stop! Stop it! Emilae, it’s me, it’s _Rin,_ get away from him! Please! Don’t hurt him! _Emilae!”_

Rin may as well have been yelling into the Void. She slammed her fists again and again against the field that trapped her, a sensation like sharp lighting zapping through her arms, and she didn’t care. She could only watch helplessly as the crowd’s chanting grew louder and louder, thundering deep in her skull, and Emilae cut into Ket’s skin for the grisly ritual. He didn’t stir, and his blood spilled out from each meticulous laceration.

Instead of falling to the floor, however, the blood began to stream upward, each drop pulled in by some force directly overhead. Then she saw it. The distortion in the air just above the altar, challenging her equilibrium just by looking at it.

“Wait waitwaitwaitwait!” she cried, her voice breathy with humiliating desperation. “You’re trying to open a _rift,_ aren’t you!? Let me do it! I have the power to open and close rifts, there’s no need for Ket’s blood!”

For a long moment, Anais did nothing but stare at the elf. In that moment, she didn’t look like a great leader, but an old woman for her eyes suddenly looked ancient and overwhelmingly sad.

“You don’t understand. None of you ever understood.” She spoke in a soft voice with a tone that could only be created through heartbreak and tragedy. “I’ve waited so long. Lifetimes came and went and still I waited. Blood is needed, Herald. Blood so I can see my beloved Lillah again.”

Blinding green light poured into the room as the rift began to tear open with a squelching sound like flesh being ripped apart. The demons in the ceiling art were no longer looking at her, but toward the rift, preparing for a mass exodus into reality. Within minutes, the sanctuary would be completely overrun.

_For huuuundreds of yeeearsss I have feeeasssted. Foooor there is no greater desssiiire than to ssseee a looooved one again. Religionsssss, culturesss, aaaalll thingsss build on relieving the pain of lossss, to pleeeassse sssome god or other all ssso they can be reuniiited with a beloved who hassss been taken awaaaay._

“…and then came all the people who have lost everything after the Conclave.”

_I have become the ssssstrongessst in the Fade. NOTHING CAN DEFEAT ME. THIS IS MY DOMAIN AND I WILL CONSUME ALL._

Her palm twitched with that all too familiar itch. “We’ll see about that.” Green and red sparks flew as she grabbed the barrier with her left hand. It wasn’t like a rift, but it was good enough as the Mark fed and fed, growing in power. The crowd was too lost in their chant to notice her breaking out.

 _That’sss it. Sssstruggle, Herald! Yoour desssire to sssave your beloved issss almosssst assss ssstrong asss her desssiiire to ssseee her beloved. And it tastes_ delicious.

“Praise to the Maker!” Anais cried in reverence toward the opening rift. “Praise to the Maker! Take us who are worthy! Take us to your side!”

Rin ignored her as she leapt across the floor onto the closest pew, tearing through the swaying crowd as her nimble elven legs carried her across the seats to the altar. She slammed into Emilae, ripping the dagger out of her hand as they fell. When the girl hissed at her like an animal, making a grab for the weapon, Rin socked her in the nose. “Nothin’ personal, kid,” she muttered as the girl crumpled to the ground.

The weak Mark burned her hand as it tried to go for the rift, but she ignored it. She would deal with the rift later. She tugged Ket’s body off the altar. Symbols had been painted on him, but most had been covered by the blood pouring from his cuts. Now that the spell had been interrupted, more of his blood showered down on them from beneath the rift.

“Lady Herald?”

Emilae sat up, holding her bloody nose, pale and terrified. “Lady Herald, what’s going on? Wha- _what is this?”_

“Your Speaker is being controlled by a Desire demon.”

“What? _What?_ That’s not – “

“No time for that. Emilae, help me get him away from that altar.”

The rift burst again as it tried to tear itself open further, knocking them off balance. Apparently, it had enough of Ket’s blood to open itself at this point. She had been too late. Disembodied, demonic voices drifted into their world, mixing with the heavy Chant as the pair dragged Ket to a corner.

Then, Rin took the dagger and began slashing her robe into strips. “Take these and stuff them into his wounds. Tie the rest around them to keep them in place and apply pressure.” He had been in more danger when the rift had been sucking the blood directly out of his body, but any further loss at this point could make things desperate. “Do you know any healing magic, _any at all?”_

“Um… a little bit… I think…”

The girl was still in shock, and Rin held back from punching her again to regain her senses. “ _TRY.”_

The sharp word was enough to bring her around. “Y-yes, ma’am! At once!”

The voices grew louder, and Rin could distinguish actual words, words she could understand.

_“Dance with me! Dance with me, Mother Anais!”_

They were coming from within the warped reality around the rift. A vision that played before them just like the echo she had seen at the Breach. A young girl, no older than Emilae – and actually looked a lot like her now that Rin thought about it – danced with a playful smile on her face and brown curls bouncing along her shoulders. Anais, wearing the robes of a Chantry Mother from those ancient days, held her hands and danced with her. Then they were tying flowers together. Then reading from ancient tomes. Laughing, smiling, glowing with love. Then blood. So much blood and dismembered bodies, heads of laysisters with expressions twisted in horror strewn about the ground. The girl was screaming as she clung to Anais. Then Anais reached out to touch the dark hand with long talons stretched toward her.

“You disgusting… you kept her alive. _This whole time?_ Feeding off her!”

_That was our deeeeal._

Lillah was dying in the vision now, Mother Anais clinging to her hand as she lay sick in bed. With each cough, drops of blood splashed across her lips. She looked older, but not by much. Mother Anais had made a deal with Desire just for a few extra short years with the person she loved the most.

_Mortalss are sssoo afraid of their own mortality… but they fear the mortality of their loved onesss even more._

Cheers and applause and cries of _“MAKER BE PRAISED!”_ rang through the sanctuary as the rift burst open completely. Demons didn’t rush out like Rin had expected. Something was still holding them back. Probably their fear for something as powerful as Desire.

“And so begins the Herald’s judgement!” Anais cried. Then her smile faded completely, her eyes widening with shock.

A figure emerged from the rift, a figure shaped like an adolescent girl with curly hair.

“Lillah? _Lillah!_ Lillah, my Lillah…” Tears streamed down Anais’s face. Arms still outstretched, she stepped forward. Then another, and another. “Have you really come back to me, Lillah?” She openly sobbed, six hundred years of grief pouring out of her. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you _so much!_ My child, my daughter! Let’s dance once more, we can finally be together again!”

“Anais, don’t! _That’s not Lillah!”_

Rin doubted her words reached the Speaker at all. Kept alive by Desire, Anais had mourned Lillah’s death for over half a millenia. That woman had died long ago, and all that remained was her grief, her desire to be with Lillah once again. She could only watch as the demon in the form of Lillah glided into the Speaker’s embrace.

“My… child…”

The snakes, all the snakes, hundreds of snakes, suddenly converged on the embrace like hungry beasts. The congregation screamed with panic, completely broken from their trance and now aware of the horror they were taking part of. “Everyone, stay calm!” Rin yelled as loud as she could. They were going to trample each other as they scrambled toward the door.

“Speaker Anais! _Speaker Anais!”_

Emilae was screaming. Rin caught her by the waist as she ran toward the writhing ball of snakes that had dragged Anais beneath their scaly bellies.

“Emilae, you can’t! There’s nothing we can do!”

“Let me go, Herald, let me go!” the girl shrieked through her sobs. “Speaker Anais!”

“You can’t save her!”

“Then _save her! SAVE HER, HERALD OF ANDRASTE! SHE’S THE ONLY MOTHER I’VE EVER KNOWN!”_

“She’s _gone, you stupid girl!”_

She regretted her words immediately. It had taken all of her strength to Emilae from killing herself by diving into that pool of snakes. Now the girl stared at Rin in shock through her tears, shock… and hatred.

“Rinlyra!”

Solas ran into the sanctuary, followed closely by Cassandra, Varric, and Blackwall. They all had somehow managed to find each other and this church from the dungeon labyrinth.

“You take care of the Speaker, we’ll handle the crowd!” Cassandra assured her as she and Varric went to direct the panicked congregation toward the exit. Solas went to tend Ket, and Blackwall pulled Emilae into his burly arms as she sobbed.

Something emerged from the sea of snakes. It was as if the creatures were all fusing together to become one grotesque being. A giant abomination rose from the wiggling pool, its flesh a mixture of scales and pulpy meat, a creature that looked to be both a woman and a serpent and yet neither. Two long forked tongues snaked from between its fangs. Venom dripped from those spear like teeth as it towered all the way to the ceiling.

“Abomination?” Blackwall gasped, hold Emilae closer, who had been shocked into silence. “Anais was no mage!”

“Demons can possess anything if they have a mind to,” Solas said. “It just takes an _immense_ amount of strength to turn a non-mage into an abomination. Demons tend to take the path of least resistance. Just not this one. Rinlyra, you need to seal the rift _now._ Rinlyra!”

Rin wasn’t listening. She could barely hear anything with all the blood pumping in her ears as her body grew hot with fury. For a moment, she just stood there, clutching the bell she wore, the bell she had picked up at the Conclave as a reminder of the tragedy that had happened there. So many people dead and so many more who mourned. Mourners who were now vulnerable to be preyed upon by creatures such as these.

She walked forward, toward the abomination, ignoring the alarmed cries of her companions. Globs of black ink dripped from its toothy serpentine orifice, its tongues wiggling at her.

_“You understand the situation you are in, don’t you child? So how about we make a deal? I can save him, you know. I can save that creature you love so dearly. I’ll even turn him into an elf for you so you’ll no longer feel guilty about loving a human. He’d look so cute with knife-ears, don’t you agree?”_

Rin glared up at it. “Shut up.”

_“Ooooh, how scary, so scary! I kind of like that look on your face. Even if you seal the rift, I will remain. This world is mine, now.”_

“No. A monster like you shouldn’t be allowed to exist.” A familiar force began to pull at her hand. The rift twisted and moaned, resisting with all its might as the Mark pulled it into its emerald clutches. “Not in this world. Not in _any.”_

There was an explosion of green magic and all living beings ducked down low to the floor on instinct. Sulphur bathed the air in a thick perfume. When the light pulled back it took the shape of a colossal jade serpent wrapped around Rin, and her eyes glowed that same green. The rift behind her was gone, already consumed by the Mark. Her voice boomed loud enough for the entire region to hear her, a voice that wasn’t entirely her own.

 _“I AM THE HERALD OF ANDRASTE, AND I NOW PASS MY JUDGEMENT ON YOU, DESIRE. BE_ DEVOURED.”

The Mark-serpent launched forward, opening a massive emerald mouth as it slammed into the Desire abomination. Desire screamed and struggled, but the Mark wrapped itself around it, wrapping and squeezing and writhing, and its jaw enclosed around the abomination’s head.

_“I’ll get you, you little knife-ear cunt! YOU CAN’T KILL DESIRE! I know the heart of that creature, I know his darkest secrets. Just you watch, he’ll treat you just the same as how that human treated your cousin! They are all the same, these humans! All the – !!!!”_

Desire’s voice cut off in a sickening gargle as its head exploded between the Mark’s fangs, and its sloppy, chomping noises echoed in the sanctuary as it ate the abomination piece by meaty piece. When it was finished, it turned its head to stare back at Rin. With the slightest tug of her hand, it calmly retreated into her palm like an obedient pet, and the sanctuary was bathed in darkness as the green light vanished.

* * *

 

“The people of Winterwatch were only being deceived by Desire,” Rin announced, “so I will show mercy. However, the atrocious acts you have committed on the innocent mages who sought this place for sanctuary from the War are unforgivable.”

She stood in front of the crowd in the main courtyard back in Winterwatch Tower. Those who hadn’t fled in terror of what they had seen or the wrath of the Herald gave her their undivided attention as they gathered around her.

“You lot will serve the Inquisition. You will do so without question until you are no longer needed. I don’t care what your talents are. I don’t care what your beliefs are. You will answer to me, the Herald of Andraste, and me alone. Should you choose not to do so, then you can find forgiveness from the Maker alone in the wilderness. Go make ready. We travel to Haven at dawn.”

Personally, she wanted to leave here immediately and be done with this nightmare.

“Rin, you did it,” Cassandra said, not hiding her proud smile, probably the first genuine smile the Seeker had ever given her. “You freed them.”

“Indeed, you have become quite proficient at this,” Solas added with a nod. “You and the Mark seem to be developing an affinity for each other.”

Rin shrugged. What did she care? All she could hear was Emilae’s words.

_“You killed her! You were supposed to be our Herald! You were supposed to take us to the Maker! And instead you killed her! You killed her, you LIAR!”_

Rin knew the girl was just in shock. She hadn’t exactly been the most reasonable person at that age, either. Given time, Emilae would understand. Maybe. But her words hurt. They sliced deep into her heart. Emilae would understand, but she would never forgive her. If Rin hadn’t come along, they would be waiting for the Herald forever. They would remain as fodder, their individual loss for Desire to feast upon until they were nothing but husks of their grief.

But… they had been strangely happy. Emilae would still be happy. Wouldn’t she? Who was Rin to decide what was true happiness and what wasn’t?

Alone in the garden, Rin sank against a tree and buried her head in her knees.

“Hey.”

Ket leaned on the trunk next to her. He should have been in his room, recovering. Solas’s healing magic could only do so much. But neither of them said anything. “I heard what the demon said,” he said softly. “For what it’s worth coming from a human… I would _never_ hurt you.”

She didn’t respond. She did lift her head, however. And when she did, she thought she had a vision. A warm vision. A woman and a young girl. Dancing together in a meadow. Dancing for eternity.

“Ket…” Her voice trembled only so slightly. “Do you think Anais has been forgiven?”

He considered for a second. “She did do a lot of bad things. But she got hers in the end, didn’t she? I think a Maker or whoever is out there, if they are supposedly so merciful, I think Anais has been punished enough. Whatever happens after we die, her grief has finally ended. Her fate has nothing to do with this world anymore.”

“…Yeah.”

The vision had long since faded. But she held onto it deep inside.

It began to rain.


	9. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Rin furthers her relationship with Ket, other forces make their move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning that there is a sex scene at the beginning of this chapter. I tried to make it as non-explicit as possible in order to keep the "M" rating. Should be easily skimmable for those who don't care for this sort of scene.

Kingsway wasn’t exactly the best time to move a few hundred people from one end of the Hinterlands to the other and up a mountain. It rained often, sometimes too much for them to move at all, and nights were bitter cold with fast approaching winter. Demons still lingered in the forests, waiting to prey on those who straggled behind. Their raucous cries echoed throughout the night every time the crowd made camp. They were bolder now that the Desire demon had been destroyed. The lesser ones could now do as they pleased without fear of being devoured.

A raven confirmed Commander Cullen was sending forces their way, a small army of ex-Templars and mages with experience in demonic combat. They would be here within days if they moved fast enough. A huge “if”. One of the scouts, a cute freckled-faced dwarf named Harding, reported through raven that there was another keep to the northeast of the party’s position, possibly housing more rogue Templars. There were several fighters from Winterwatch, strong and able-bodied enough, but not many, not enough to take down a whole keep and protect the others at the same time.

It was the kind of headache Rin didn’t want to deal with anymore.

The Mark came out of her hand at will now. She didn’t even have to be near a rift anymore. It would drift out of her palm, curling upward and staring down at her. At least, it _felt_ like it stared. She couldn’t tell if this thing in her hand was alive or not. She really hoped not.

She chugged another mug of Ferelden beer, bitter and watery, and the only alcoholic beverage they found after clearing out a cave of bandits. The nightmares were back in full force now, always that creepy silhouette of some birdlike figure in the distance, always getting closer and closer to her little by little, and she could hear the gentle chiming of bells. That sweet sound felt more ominous than comforting, however.

Blackwall seemed to fit in their little party fine. Rin left the interrogation up to Cassandra, however, and sat off on her own as she drank more of that disgusting beer. Soon enough she was – well, _drunk_ wouldn’t be the word she would use, not even close. She wasn’t sober, but it was that point of being barely sober, the point where your body was feeling a little airy but you were still well aware of everything around you.

She didn’t want to be aware of anything anymore.

She wasn’t even tipsy enough to stumble as she made her way back to camp. Truth be told, she had no idea what she would do there besides sleep. And sleeping was the last thing she wanted at the moment.

Then she was standing in front of Ket’s tent. His had been set up a little ways from everyone else’s, giving him breathing room to recover from his horrific wounds as a result of being a cult’s sacrificial goat. With only slight hesitation, she called out, “Ket… kitty-Ket? Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” came the immediate response. She opened the flap to see him sitting on his cot wearing only his smallclothes, changing his bandages. Solas’s healing magic had done all it could to pull him out of immediate danger. Now it was a matter of routinely applying salves made of elfroot and crystal grace to prevent infection.

Rin sat down next to him, taking some salve on her fingers and applying over a particularly nasty looking cut on his chest that had been recently stitched back together with clean thread. “Thanks,” he said softly. “Now I know what a Satinalia turkey feels like.”

“This one might leave a scar,” she remarked, her fingers lingering on his chest longer than they probably should have.

He grinned with a small chuckle. “Yeah? Kinda badass you kn – “

The salve fell out of her hand and the cot shifted beneath as she leaned up and cut him off by pressing her lips into his. For a second, he froze, his eyes widening at the taste of her plush mouth. Then his eyes closed as he returned her kiss, cupping her face with one hand. They remained just like for a little while, savoring the sweet taste of each other, a taste that had been a long time coming. He sighed when her tongue flicked along his bottom lip, and he nipped her ever so slightly in return.

She pushed closer to him, her breasts brushing against his chest, her tongue seeking deeper refuge in his very willing mouth. Hungrier they both became, and he pulled her even tighter against him. She shuddered with a moan as his hands slid down the small of her back. She shifted her legs to straddle his lap, and her hips began to grind in a languid circular motion on his hardening groin. He broke their kiss to catch his breath, before trailing his lips along her delicate throat. Small gasps of pleasure fell from her trembling mouth with each tender bite of her skin as her fingers dug into his hair, pulling a little with each exciting sting of his teeth.

The belt of her tunic fell to the side. Then her tunic itself. He caressed her all over with smooth, feather-like touches that drove her toward delicious insanity, dusky fingers tracing along each pale curve and dip. He smelled amazing, like spices and wood-smoke and the faintest hint of blood. She clung to his head and breathed him in deep, etching his fragrance into her memory. His smell had always been the most attractive thing about him, the essence of forbidden promises next to a low fire on a dark night.

They said nothing. If a single word was to be uttered, they knew the spell would break entirely. And yet, his name tumbled from her lips when he dipped his head to taste her breasts. Her hair swept across her spine as her head fell back, and she could barely take much more of this wonderful bliss his hot tongue and hotter fingers swept over her body.

She pushed him away for a brief respite, both of them breathing hard. Gaze not letting go of his, she rose to her knees to untie her pants. He watched as they fell from her hips. The simple loincloth she had been wearing underneath soon followed, and his gaze was now little more than dark desire as his breath hitched. Light from the slight gap in the tent flap shimmered on her slick inner thighs as a testament of her own need. She leaned against him to kiss him once more, and his hand reached around her ass to cup her. His skin was so hot to touch now, a very real threat if he wasn’t careful, and she enjoyed every inch of it, moaning into his mouth as his hand stroked her deeply. She returned the favor, pulling him out of his smallclothes, gripping him tight. Her body ached when she shifted away from his slick fingers, so very close, but there was only one way she wanted their first time together to end. She wanted to really feel him. They would have plenty of opportunities for all kinds of play if he would still have her.

Their kisses grew wilder, hungrier, and then she slid down on him, moaning with delight at how full he made her feel. The kiss dissolved as they sat very still for a moment, forehead against forehead, hair matted with sweat, hot breath mingling. It was almost difficult to believe that they were actually here, together, in this moment. After so long. Much too long. Someone moved. Neither was sure who. Maybe they both did at the same time. But one moved and the other followed, and they swayed together in a carnal dance. He gripped her tight and her pace quickened once she found the perfect angle, where each snap of their hips wound her tight. His teeth teased her collarbone, leaving more soft marks in the wake of his lips.

Her cries heightened with each deliberate thrust. She didn’t care if anyone heard her. Let them. When the world broke around her as she toppled over the precipice of climax, wrapping her mind in dark heat, she might have screamed. His arms squeezed her as she milked him for every drop he had, his nails digging into her back. His desperate scratches turned her on all over again, making her purr as she leaned against him while he shuddered with a cry of his own.

It was a pleasant surprise that he waited for her. She hadn’t thought his endurance would be so high, that he actually would be able to hold himself back. Here she expected to be the one to call the shots, and then she ended up becoming putty in his hands. It was very different than what she was used to… and kind of exciting. It had been a long time since she let herself just enjoy the sensation of sex with no ulterior motive.

She didn’t even take any of his stuff out of sheer habit.

About ten minutes after taking care of herself, Rin crawled back into the cot to get as close to Ket’s warm body as possible. Andraste’s tight nips, it was getting cold out there! Crouching in the bushes with an icy early autumn breeze blowing on her naked tush wasn’t her idea of a good time. He had changed the rest of his bandages while she was gone, finally finished with the task she had so “rudely” interrupted.

They didn’t say anything for a while as if they had become a pair of shy teens all over again. “That was… quite different from six years ago,” she finally said. “At least you didn’t puke on my shoe this time.” Then she burst out laughing at his heavily blushing, mortified face. Of all the pillow talk topics, _this_ was the one she had decided to bring up.

“I was a kid!” Ket protested hotly. “I was _nervous!_ And it was because _you_ made me drink Antivan Sip-Sip and dared me to go kiss the girl I liked!”

“Uh, yeah, because I thought it would actually relax you. I had no idea the girl was _me!_ There were all kinds of lords’ daughters at your ma’s soiree. And yet you went for the elf.”

“You expect me to believe that by giving me alcohol and daring me to go for my first kiss, you didn’t think I was going to go for the _cutest_ girl there?”

“T-touché...”

She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss, hard and deep, so that he wouldn’t notice her suddenly embarrassed flush, and they lay there for a long time just lazily tasting each other.

So much better than all those years ago. Back then, she hadn’t expected a kiss to be so mushy. And it had also tasted hot, like putting her face too close toward the oven. With a slight tingle of alcohol.

She would never tell him.

How at seventeen that had been her first kiss, too.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so there we were. Sailing through the treacherous waves of the Waking Sea. Water tossing us around like it’s playing Kick the Can. And all of sudden this shark just leaps right onto the deck. And we all panic, of course, because it’s a Maker-damned shark!”

“Gnashing teeth and everything.”

“Yup. So we’re all running around trying to keep the boat afloat _and_ avoiding being eaten by this thrashing monster-fish trying to bite our ankles.”

“And then all of a sudden, here comes Knight-Captain Trevelyan! Is he panicked? _Absolutely not!_ He wrestles the damn thing, a mighty battle between man and beast. Shark is thrashing about this way and that, but Captain Trevelyan has his massive, meaty arms wrapped tight around the demon fish with no change of letting it escape.”

“But then it does!”

The small group of Orlesian Templar troops gasped from behind their helmets that they refused to take off.

“And the beast turns on him with its ginormous teeth, _nananananananana!”_

“Eeek!” one troop exclaimed.

“And then what?” another demanded breathlessly.

The inner courtyard of the compound for the Orlesian Order was filled with young Templars, recently initiated recruits fresh from their respective monasteries, their graduation expedited considerably in order to fill the massive gap in the Order left by those who had died at the Conclave. Especially as far as the Ferelden Order was concerned, for they were the ones who had taken the most damage to their numbers. Most were way too young to be wearing the armor already as far as both Khearan and Barris were concerned. Templar Riley, the one who had started telling this wild version of their trip to Val Royeaux to this particularly naïve group of Orlesian troops, had only seen sixteen summers. If the tragedy at the Temple of Sacred Ashes had never happened, he would still have three years _at least_ to complete his training before donning the title of _Templar._

“The fate of our Order is literally in the hands of _children,”_ Khearan muttered, drumming his fingers against the golden railing of the balcony as he observed the gathering troops below. There were barely a few hundred. Was this truly it? Or had most of them simply not bothered to comply with the Lord Seeker’s summons?

“Templar Riley’s telling the shark story again looks like,” Barris remarked, unable to help grinning in amusement at how shocked the Orlesian troops looked even with their helmets on. It really was funny how much emotion Orlesians communicated through their body language when they wore masks to hide such a thing to begin with. One of them was even hopping around in place as if barely able to contain the shocked and exciting response to the tales of the much feared Knight-Captain Trevelyan.

“It gets more and more elaborate each time he tells it. Has he gotten to the part where I throw the shark on the surly first mate trying to mutiny against the captain?”

The Orlesian troops then started shrieking when Riley fell dramatically to the ground, rolling around as if something was eating him.

“Oh. There it is.”

Of course, none of that had actually happened. Except for the mutiny. Well, _rumor_ of a mutiny. Until Khearan confronted first mate Allard and proceeded to show him under no uncertain terms could anyone try to manipulate _him_ into anything.

He _may_ have held that sniveling little shit over the side of the boat to put the fear of the Maker into him. A shark _may_ have jumped out of the water to snatch the squealing piglet of a man right out of his grip, and would have dragged the Knight-Captain down with them if Barris and the other troops hadn’t pulled him back on deck. Personally, Khearan liked Templar Riley’s story better. Wrestling a shark sounded much more elegant than nearly getting his arm bitten off.

“Your troops are quite taken with you, Knight-Captain.”

A chill skittered down Khearan’s spine like a hundred prickly legs of tiny spiders crawling on his skin. It had been _years_ since he heard that voice. His hand clenched into a fist ever so slightly before he turned around, his face frozen in an expression of utmost professionalism. “Lord Seeker,” he greeted with a salute, Barris following his lead, both bowing their heads in respect. Lord Seeker Lucius Corin didn’t return their gesture. Not that it was required of him to, but it was pretty Maker-damned rude.

“Leave us,” he commanded Barris. The lieutenant hesitated a moment, but Khearan gave him a firm nod to send him on his way. With another salute, Barris dismissed himself back inside and the other two were left alone on the balcony.

“Knight-Captain Trevelyan,” Lucius drawled. “How long has it been? Five years? Six? I haven’t seen you since I was accepted into the Seekers of Truth and left you behind in Nevarra to play babysitter. It pleases me to see you’ve only become more handsome with age.”

He bet it did. Khearan gave the Lord Seeker a tight but appreciative smile. “My thanks, Ser. The years have been kind to you as well.”

No, they hadn’t. _Maker._ The captain felt a sickening sense of absolute revulsion that had little to do with their history. Lucius was only a few months older than Khearan. They had ended up in the same monastery upon their recruitment into the Templar Order sixteen or so years ago. They had studied together. Trained together. They had become close as brothers. _Closer,_ even. And then Lucius had been taken in by the Seekers, and everything Khearan had worked for had been swept away in a single act of betrayal.

Lucius was a lot skinnier now, which was kind of unnerving considering he was only an inch or two shorter than Khearan’s own massive height. He wore the black armor gilded in gold of a Lord Seeker, and yet it looked like two of him could fit in it easily. His eyes were smaller and deep set into reddened sockets as if he hadn’t slept a single minute in the past ten years. The smile of his thin lips stretched much too wide, curving beyond yellowing teeth and revealing the insides of his mouth that were so very, very red alongside his ashy skin. His silver hair hung in tattered strings around his shoulders.

He had been handsome once, believe it or not. Khearan never wasted time with anyone less.

Lucius stepped closer, smelling like something rotten, and Khearan could see little uneven patches of hair growing along his jaw. He touched the crimson tattoos etched on the captain’s face with a bony finger. “A reward for a job well done in Nevarra, huh?” He didn’t even bother hiding his mockery.

“Upon receiving my promotion as Knight-Captain, Ser,” Khearan replied. “It is customary for Nevarrans to tattoo their warriors in commemoration.” He kept his tone light and professional, even a little pleasant. This worm wasn’t going to crawl any further under his skin than it already had.

The Lord Seeker’s smile faltered only for a moment, and then he stepped back to lean against the railing. “You may not believe me, but I am actually incredibly pleased that you’ve answered my summons. I could always rely on you.”

Yeah, he bet. “If I may speak my mind, Ser,” he began. It irked him having to speak so submissively, and it irked him even more that Lucius enjoyed every moment of it. “Why are we here? What good is there waffling around in Val Royeaux of all places when the world is falling apart?”

“Because the Chantry asked us to be here.”

Khearan’s eyes narrowed. It was never as simple as that. Not where Lucius Corin was concerned.

“Look at them,” Lucius remarked, gazing down at the young troops. They were scrambling to get in formation at the command of their officers now that their brief respite was over. “Such youth and energy, survivors of the greatest trial ever faced in Thedas, the next generation, the leaders of a New Order. They’re _perfect.”_

“Perfect for what, Ser?”

Lucius began to hum, swaying slightly to a tune that Khearan couldn’t hear. He briefly closed his eyes as if enraptured by his own voice. When he opened them to stare at the captain, they were glassed over like those of a corpse.

“It would be better to _show_ you, Khe,” he said with a hideous grin.

* * *

 

There was so much snow on the ground now. When Rin and her party had left for the Hinterlands, there had mostly been frost and flurries. Now it fell heavily, and some villagers worked to keep the paths in Haven clear so that no one had to wade through five feet of snow just to get to the tavern or the market. They worked without complaint; they were used to it, after all. It was the same as every winter. Autumn may have only just arrived in the valley below, but there were only two seasons here in the peaks of the Frostbacks: snow and a lot more snow.

Most of the Winterwatch refugees stayed at the Crossroads, serving the Inquisition by helping build on what would one day be a village of its own, hunting and crafting and protecting those who were incapable of doing so themselves. They were running out of time, however. With barely a harvest for the people of the Hinterlands, much less hundreds more who were suddenly stuck in the region, winter was going to be a harsh one. Rin was already receiving reports from Harding and the other scouts that hunting was becoming scarcer with each day. The animals had either migrated away or holed up for the winter.

Not for the first time, Rin wondered if they should have kept those people at Winterwatch.

“Even if there had been an elven artifact there to strengthen the Veil,” Solas had said when she voiced her complaint, “it would have been destroyed once Desire tore its way into reality. Added to the horrific nature of Anais’s grief and her death, I’m afraid the Veil there is beyond repair. It would only be a matter of time, and a short matter at that, before another demon took advantage of them.”

“Better than starving,” she muttered.

It had been an exhausting task escorting them all up the mountain. They moved slow, even if they kept to the roads mostly unhindered by terrain. Cullen’s forces had helped clear the way of bandits and demons, but the battles were lengthy and numerous. Rifts were popping up more frequently these days. Either the Breach’s stability was wavering, or demons were getting bolder. The only good thing out of all it was when it rained and she actually had energy to play. She would listen to the rainfall while entangled with Ket in his bed, feel his warm breath on her shoulder as he slept after she wore him out.

They _probably_ should talk about this at some point, by the way. But on top of everything else they had to focus on, the task seemed so _daunting._ This wasn’t exactly the best time to work out a relationship when they were trying to keep a group of helpless people from starving or falling prey to bandits and bears and demons. Personally, Rin was happy being in Ket’s bed and leaving it at that. Now that they had arrived back in Haven, there wasn’t going to be much an excuse putting off figuring out where they stood with each other anymore. It was a conversation she really wasn’t looking forward to having, truth be told.

The refugees who didn’t stay at the Crossroads followed Rin to Haven. They were a lot of the elderly and small children, those who needed somewhere safe and warm _immediately,_ who couldn’t sit in drafty huts waiting for the village to be built. As they marched through Haven, some of the villagers stopped what they were doing as they passed, bowing at Rin and eyeing the new refugees with curiosity.

There was a crowd gathered by the doors of the Chantry. While she couldn’t understand their words at this distance, Rin could hear infuriated yelling. “Wait here,” she instructed, and she and Cassandra went to see what the fuss was about. They approached the crowd in time to see Commander Cullen breaking up a fight which had drawn them into begin with. The tension between the Templar and mage refugees had finally snapped, the common ground of a dead Divine and a breaking world holding them together until now having long since broken apart. Over a month had gone by, and nothing had been done. The Divine was still dead, and there was still a hole in the sky. Keeping the Breach from spreading wasn’t good enough anymore.

Rin looked back at the party, seeing the Winterwatch refugees exchange glances of confusion amongst themselves. Ket gave her an inquiring expression, and she shrugged, and when he gestured with his hand if he should come over there, she shook her head.

“We’re not Templars or the Circle, anymore!” Cullen was saying, his angry tone laced with a hint of pleading determination. “We have to keep working together!”

“For how much longer, Commander?” a Templar demanded, and no amount of discipline could keep his hot frustration in check even as he spoke to someone higher ranked than himself. “These beasts were the ones who lured out the Divine and killed her along with half our Order! All of our important leaders have been reduced to ash on that mountain! All we need to do is bring these animals to justice, and _then_ we can worry about the Breach!”

A chorus of cheers broke out at his words, along with exclamations of rage from the Circle mages.

“None of this would have happened if your corrupted Order hadn’t been so power hungry!” one mage shot back. “It’s always easier to blame the _dangerous_ mages than to look at your own faults! You’re the ones who _let her die!”_

_“Enough!”_

Cullen’s voice was loud enough to echo off the mountain, and Rin was pretty sure the whole village heard him. Even the refugees behind her stared at the scene with wide eyes at his shout.

“Twelve demerits to the next one who opens his mouth without given permission to do so. I have never been more disgusted with such lack of discipline in my entire career _._ We are part of the Inquisition. That means we play by its rules now, do you understand? Your personal beliefs and conspiracy theories have no place here. The next person I see trying to disturb what little peace we have, I will personally flog him in front of the rest of you as an example, _do I make myself clear?”_

The Inquisition troops hesitated before replying together, “Yes, Ser!”

“As Inquisition, you will work _together._ You will eat together, you will sleep together, you will even bathe together, and _none_ of this is up for debate. Either do your part, or _get out.”_

Some of the troops still looked defiant, but no one talked back to the Commander. Just like the refugees, the loyal Templars and Circle mages who had survived the Conclave tragedy were trapped here. If they defied the Inquisition, where else could they go?

Cassandra and Rin decided now was the time to move closer as the mumbling crowd dispersed. Cullen sighed deeply, running a hand through his curls of strawberry blonde hair peppered with snow flakes and faint streaks of gray. Rin would have considered him a handsome man if he didn’t look so _worn out._ His face, tanned from the outdoors, was weathered with wrinkles from age and labor, his thin lips chapped from the cold air.

“I see a riot has been successfully avoided,” Cassandra remarked.

“It’s been one thing or another for the past week now,” Cullen replied, scowling at nothing in particular. “I can’t entirely blame them, however. They’re restless, and years of their training are being thrown away for a cause nobody is sure about.”

The Seeker shifted slightly, and Rin sensed her discomfort. It had been her idea to revive the Inquisition, after all, a rash decision made mostly so that Rin wouldn’t be taken away by the Chantry. She felt a little touched by that, even if it had been so the Inquisition could use her Mark to close the Breach themselves.

“Who are they?” Cullen asked, nodding toward the refugees hanging back.

“It’s a long story,” Cassandra said with a sigh. “Let us go inside where it’s warm, and I’ll report all the details. Rin, bring our new guests into the Chantry and ensure that they are comfortable. Have Ketthan and Solas warm some blankets for them.”

As the two disappeared inside, Rin headed back to the party when she was stopped by Chancellor Roderick appearing out of nowhere. Ah, this dude. He was the guy who had been convinced her guilt ever since she had the displeasure of running into him at the forward camp just before they stabilized the Breach. They hadn’t even been introduced when he started yelling at her, and the moment she recovered from the battle, he demanded her execution. He was as old as he was rude, a conniving clergyman who suddenly had more power than he knew what to do with now that the actually important people of the Chantry had been killed in the explosion. According to Cassandra.

She stiffened as he sneered at her. “Looks like your little game is starting to fall apart, elf,” he said. “It won’t be much longer before these sheep are no longer fooled by your strange magic. They’ll come to see the Herald of Andraste for the fraud she is once they awaken from this foolish dream. The world is over, and they’ll soon accept it.”

Rin sighed, much like how Cullen had earlier only far more exaggerated. “What do you want, shem?”

His sneer faded as he stepped closer to her, and she instinctively took a step back. “For you to finally face justice for what you’ve done. There’ll be no one left to protect you soon enough.”

He walked away as Ket approached, ignoring the youth entirely. “What was that about?” Ket demanded, glaring at Roderick’s retreating back.

“Just another shem tellin’ me how much in common I have with sewage, no biggie,” Rin replied

with nonchalant shrug and a wry grin.

“Why do they allow that spineless bastard to stick around, anyway? What’s Cullen thinking?”

“Entertainment? Every major organization needs a court jester, don’t they?”

She laughed, but his frown only deepened. “I dunno, Rin, I’ve encountered my fair share of people like him. He’s spineless, but what if people start taking him seriously?”

“So what? Once we close the Breach, we’ll slip outta here for anybody notices.” Her teasing grins softened to a reassuring smile. “Nobody’s gonna execute me. Trust me, quite a few of them have tried. So stop being such a potato and don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, yeah?”

Ket didn’t look at all convinced, but he nodded just the same. She had to admit she was a little happy that he worried about her at all, weird as it felt.

Leliana was talking to a Chantry sister as the Winterwatch refugees were escorted into the Chantry and made comfortable with warm blankets and a little food. Rin didn’t really pay attention until she noticed the spymaster nodding in her direction, and she stopped what she was doing. The sister turned around, her eyes growing impossibly wide.

_“Ketthan!”_

The sister came toward them in a full run and launched herself into his arms. As he swung her around, embracing her back in return, Rin realized she was literally his _sister._ Lahra Trevelyan’s hood had fallen from her beaming face, a face that looked almost exactly like her little brother’s but a few shades darker and her hair voluminous waves of near-black. Their green eyes, however, were the exact same.

“I can’t believe you’re alive!” she cried, and her voice shook as if she were struggling to keep from breaking down in tears. “Our parents are beside themselves with worry! _Nyhae_ has all but gone crazy, and is this close to sending all of Ostwick out looking for you and Khearan!” Her voice choked, and she poked her brother hard in his shoulder, only an inch or so shorter than him. “Why haven’t you written anybody at all? Even when Leliana told me you were alive, you were off gallivanting around so I had to come here and see for myself!”

“Sorry, Lahra, I hadn’t had time to sit and write a letter explaining everything. It’s all been happening so fast.”

“Yeah, Lahra, give you precious baby _brhe_ a break!”

Lahra’s eyes nearly popped out of her pretty skull when Rin tapped her shoulder and grinned at her. _“Rinlyra!”_ and this time she did start sobbing as she pulled the elf into her bosom. “You, too, you terrible thing, how could you not write at least to _me!?_ I’ve been worried sick about the _both_ of you!”

“And still no word from Khearan?” Ket asked.

Still clinging to Rin, Lahra sniffed and shook her head. Then she took a step back and rubbed her runny makeup and nose on her sleeve, pulling herself back together. “Maker’s breath, Ket, everything is such a mess now. Even Ostwick is on the brink of falling apart without the Chantry holding it together. It’s all our _nyhae,_ our grandmother, can do to keep it from going the same way as Kirkwall and Wycome.”

“I’m afraid a lot has happened while you were away in the Hinterlands,” Leliana clarified. “Kirkwall has destroyed itself entirely. And Wycome has gone in isolation, so we have absolutely no idea what is going on in there.”

“We’ve managed to rescue some of our bards who survived Kirkwall, but Wycome is utterly silent,” Lahra added. “We’re completely blind. Ostwick is proving to be the only safe haven in the Free Marches, but our House is stretched thin.” She hesitated, unsure of her next words. “Without Khearan there, some of the other nobility is taking that as a sign of our weakness. Starkhaven in particular is becoming rather ambitious, and claims that the destabilization of the Free Marches is our fault somehow. _Nahnae_ even offered me to the Prince in marriage, but he refused.”

“At least one good thing came outta that, right?” The siblings didn’t appreciate Rin’s joke, however. Even in such chaos, marriage proved all the stronger as a solid form of alliance. This went deeper than a commoner’s view of matrimony. Lahra’s hand had not been given lightly, and Starkhaven’s refusal meant the city had no intention of being friends to Ostwick. They weren’t interested in merging forces; they wanted Trevelyan out of the picture entirely.

“We need to find Khearan,” Lahra said. “Ostwick needs to rely on Trevelyan again if we are to survive Starkhaven. Though I did come here in hopes of my finding my _brhe,_ I actually came to request help from the Inquisition in person. Our House may have always been in support of the Chantry, but I think they will appreciate the reinforcements. And Ketthan is part of the Inquisition now, isn’t he? He may be a mage, but that still means something to the people of Ostwick.”

“Um… we’re not entirely sure what we are,” Rin spoke up. “We’ve kinda just been focused on the Breach.”

“While the Breach is still our priority, we can’t ignore all this political upheaval, either.” Josephine appeared, her tablet still in hand with its dripping candle. She nodded with a polite smile to Lahra. “Lady Trevelyan. Herald. You just brought many refugees in from the Hinterlands, did you not? With our forces as small as they are, our influence next to nothing, we cannot possibly sustain them.”

“Winter approaches fast,” Cullen added as he and Cassandra came from the war room to join their little powwow now that the Seeker had finished giving her official report. “And I doubt the Crossroads village will be finished in time to give them adequate shelter, not to so many people. Even the Chantry has no room.”

“And so we need to focus on forging alliances,” Josephine concluded.

“But the Breach – “ Rin protested.

“Is stabilized for now, according to Solas. If our biggest worries are rifts, then we should focus on growing our power and influence.”

“They aren’t just simple rifts.” Rin shuddered. Winterwatch had proved that this was beyond a few demons stumbling into the world. If there were others out there just like Desire, the Inquisition would not have the strength to keep them from destroying everything.

“All the more reason for us to get in the good graces of the nobility and those of power,” the ambassador pointed out, reading Rin’s face as clearly as if she read her mind directly. “Ketthan, I will need your help in this matter. Write to your grandmother. Once she is reassured of your safety, she may be able to focus on Ostwick. As far as Ser Trevelyan goes, I have heard rumors from Orlesian nobility that the remaining Templar forces have offered to protect Val Royeaux. How true this is, I cannot say, but that may be a good place to start looking for him.”

“If it’s Lord Seeker Corin gathering them, you’d better believe there’s more to it than that,” Cullen growled, mostly under his breath.

“It’s clear by now that we are the only ones who can bring the rest of Thedas together,” Cassandra spoke up. “Which brings up another point. If we are to unite the world, then the Inquisition needs to appear united. We need a leader, a focal point from which the Inquisition operates. An Inquisitor, as it were.”

“Should I start compiling candidates?” the commander asked.

The Seeker smiled. “No need. I already have the perfect one in mind. Rinlyra, we will look to you from now on.”

For a long time, Rin was convinced she hadn’t actually heard anything. _“ME?”_ she exclaimed when she registered each of their expectant faces. “What, no way! There’s no way I can do something like that! I’m not even a leader!”

“When we were at Winterwatch, I have witnessed the extraordinary.” Cassandra’s smile didn’t falter in the slightest. “You and only you had liberated those refugees from the clutches of a powerful demon with little casualty, an almost impossible feat.”

“That’s because I have the Mark.”

“Exactly. Which makes this something only _you_ can do. You are the Herald of Andraste, not affiliated with the Chantry or any noble house or any other institution. This makes the Inquisition’s purpose all the clearer. We exist to fix this chaos and nothing more. You are above all this petty politicking, and the people will see that.”

Rin looked around helplessly at the others, but they were all nodding in agreement. Even Ket and Lahra, those who actually _knew_ her, gave her their own supportive smiles. “I wouldn’t know what to do at all,” she finally said in defeat. “All I have ever lead was small parties of smugglers and mercenaries, and, yeah, we’re weren’t exactly on the side of right and just there.”

The Seeker gave her shoulder a gentle grasp. “No one knows what to do at first,” she said softly, her dark eyes filled with understanding. “Not even the most experienced leaders sometimes. I have been in your position once long ago. I know the doubt you feel very well.”

“You are not alone,” Leliana assured her. “Even when it feels like it, the Maker is at your side. As are we. You are His Chosen, just like Andraste had been. Just like your sister had been.”

What they said made sense, a little, but Rin couldn’t hold back one last argument and her ears began to redden with self-conscious doubt. “But… I’m an elf,” she said to the group of shems that had her completely surrounded.

“And imagine what this position would mean to your people,” Josephine pointed out gently.

“I… suppose.”

Her sister had defeated the Archdemon during the Fourth Blight, and elves weren’t still the better for it. Rin still doubted anything she did would matter beyond closing the Breach. Despite all her doubts, however, they would probably just keep hounding her until she gave in. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “I guess I’ll be your Inquisitor.”

* * *

 

They held an official ceremony later that week in front of the Chantry where the Inquisition flag swayed heavily from above the door with the cold wind, making quite an impression on the refugees and the people of Haven. Its embroidered eye stared down at them, like the eye of the Maker watching His Chosen ascend to even higher power as He judged her worth. The last time Rin had stood like this, wearing formal leather and looking somewhat important in front of that flag and the Maker, they had officially announced the Inquisition’s rebirth.

This time, she was alone. All eyes were only on her. She noticed a few elves in the crowd looked just as wide-eyed and confused as she did.

Cassandra was giving a grand speech as she paced in front of her, recounting all of Rin’s accomplishments in the Hinterlands from helping the destitute to closing the rifts. She cringed when the Seeker began talking about Winterwatch, an incident Rin didn’t personally consider a victory, just an unfortunate result of unfortunate circumstances. How could it not look like she was using that horrific incident to further her own accomplishments? She then realized she was looking for Emilae in that sea faces, having not seen the girl since she opted to stay at the Crossroads. It didn’t look like she had come at all.

With a sharp sound, Cassandra unsheathed a gorgeous longsword that gleamed in the light of the Breach, a ceremonial sword of power, the blade smooth and just as sharp as it had been upon its conception. “By my authority as a Seeker of Truth,” her voice rang loudly throughout the village, “I give you Inquisitor Rinlyra Tabris.”

This was Rin’s cue, and she didn’t think she could ever fuck up walking two simple steps forward until now. She did move without incident, but it was like she had no control of her body at all. Next thing she knew, she was holding the sword of the Inquisition, and everyone looked at her expectantly. She had prepared a speech of sorts and had practiced with Ket and Josephine for the past few days, but now all those carefully prepared words had abandoned her entirely.

“Aaah, I…”

She trailed off. Then her eyes found Ket’s. He was giving her a very complicated look, a mix of awe and fear and a whole bunch of other stuff. Then he smiled at her.

He had always believed in her, hadn’t he? No matter what happened, he never once doubted her. In that brief moment, she remembered, a long time ago… they had just been kids. And she was thirteen and headstrong and determined to show off in front of this noble brat whose family she served. She was showing him how to reach a window by leaping off the wall. Only she had misjudged her distance and smashed her face on the casing instead. Her nose survived, but her lip had been deeply cut, the source of her current scar, and she lost a tooth. Even as they bandaged her bloody failure, Ket had laughed. Not to make fun of her or make her feel bad, but because she had made on impression on him. She had failed horribly and had the scars to prove it, but he liked that she had tried. It made her cute, made her _fun._

Maybe that was all she needed for right now. Maybe all she needed was to at least _act_ like she knew what she was doing, and the rest would come later. If a ten-year-old shem could be impressed with her despite her breaking her own face in front of him, then maybe the rest of them didn’t need that much convincing, either.

Standing here staring at them stupidly certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“As you know,” she began, her voice shaking a little, “I am the Herald of Andraste. I can close rifts with the power of my Mark, and I have even stabilized the Breach. But, um, that’s not enough. The Breach can’t stay up there forever, but we need to do more than just close it for good. We have to, uh, you know, we have to show the Chantry, the rest of Thedas, that we are not to be trifled with!”

Oh, that wasn’t really a good thing to say, was it? It sounded so boorish and cliché, something an inexperienced tyrant would say after twirling his mustache and cackling over his maps. After a brief flash of panic, she collected herself back together and tried to push the image of that villain out of her mind.

The elves in the crowd were really staring at her now even as the shems muttered to each other, waiting for her to speak to them. Staring into their gazes, she took a deep breath. “What I mean to say is… we’re not hooligans. We’re not animals. We didn’t cause any of this mess, but now we’re the only ones who can fix it. The Chantry won’t help us, anymore. And sometimes I wonder if they ever really could.”

Another murmur waved through the crowd. One elf smiled at her. It was the confidence boost she needed.

“We may be outcasts. We may feel completely alone in this. But we’re not. We just have to do some creative convincing. Together, we can forge even stronger alliances. Let the Chantry throw their petty tantrums while we focus on what’s right and that is fixing our world, whatever problem that may be!”

The murmuring grew excited. Some nodded their heads and gave exclamations of agreement. Her own people looked pleased.

“I am the Herald of Andraste, and I am also now your Inquisitor. My past, my beliefs, none of that matters anymore in the face that must be done for the good of the world. For whatever reason that doesn’t matter anymore, the Maker chose _me_ to lead you.”

On her command, the Mark swirled from her hand in a display of power. Its light was the same green as the Breach, but far warmer for it was a light of hope. It wrapped around her and curled high above her head like a halo of emerald divinity, and the entire crowd grew silent with awe.

“And lead you I shall. Or fall trying.”

Haven shook from the thunderous applause and cries of _“Praise the Herald of Andraste! Praise be to our Inquisitor!”_

Her fate was sealed it the moment the word left their lips. Rin was the Inquisitor. And her fate was no longer hers to control.


	10. The Woods Have Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin is officially appointed Inquisitor, and her first task is to find a boy that has gone missing in the woods, supposedly kidnapped by a cannibalistic Dalish clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a bit of a joke, but appropriate considering. Setting up for the next mini-arc still, but what happens here is no less important. Given what I have planned in the future, it felt necessary to add this scene.

The week before Rin’s official inauguration as Inquisitor, before she accepted the sword that signified her new title, had been a busy one. The moment she agreed to be their Inquisitor, Josephine was off like a flash, dragging Ket behind her. They only had a week because that was the earliest the closest noble dignitaries would arrive. And they would, many of them, if not themselves then representatives sent in their places, all to scrutinize this new “Inquisitor”. They already had to deal with one Orlesian marquis claiming the land of Haven belonged to his wife or some other such nonsense. Josephine had elegantly shot him down, but he was the first of many who would try to trip the Inquisition up. Not to mention the Chantry’s adamant stance against them, and Chancellor Roderick’s dissent. The sooner they had a leader to unify them, the better.

“Sorry I can’t stay for the inauguration, Rin,” Lahra told her the next day. “I have to get back to Ostwick, I’ve stayed longer than I should have already. Leliana needs me to keep an eye on things out there. I’ll be sure to keep in touch! And tell that silly little brother of mine I said to be sweet to my girl, or I’ll hear about it!”

Rin had kind of hoped Lahra would stick around for a while as someone to talk to considering how busy everyone else was. The two women had grown very close, especially when Rin had set off on her own after her contract with House Trevelyan had ended. They often exchanged information about cities to one another, Lahra hunting for secrets like Rin hunted for illicit goods. On the surface, Lahra Trevelyan looked like just any Chantry sister, pious with soft eyes and a gentle face, but she was Leliana’s eyes and ears of the Free Marches with her own circle of bards under her supervision.

Not even Ket was around to keep Rin company during this whirlwind of a week. He had a talent for writing letters, even for a noble his age, which came as a pleasant surprise to Josephine and she ended up keeping him. Even with his mage status, he was trained with the expectations of becoming First Enchanter one day, and that required the use of those very same skills of his birthright. Noble-born mages were still an entirely different breed than commoners, no matter how much the Chantry tried to convince everyone otherwise.

After writing his grandmother to assure her of his safety, Ket went on to drafting letters to the nobles he knew personally in Ostwick and some of the other Marcher cities, explaining the situation and formally asking for their support of the new Inquisition. It was a particularly delicate situation that Josephine was relieved to have his help in. The Marchers were a fiercely proud people who didn’t lend their help easily, especially to an outsider like her, an Antivan. Even Ket, one of their own, may have difficulty getting them to acquiesce if he didn’t word his requests just right, in such a way that they felt supporting the Inquisition would be just as beneficial to them. It was manipulative, if you were being honest here, but such was the nature of nobility.

The siblings’ absence did make Rin feel a little lonely, but she was busy enough to not have time to dwell on it. Fittings, mostly. All kinds of fittings. She needed new armor, one that distinguished her as leader of this growing army. She needed clothes, formal wear for presenting herself before nobility where armor was considered too brash and intimidating. With Ket taking some of the burden as assistant ambassador, Josephine was able to design several Inquisition uniforms for all kinds of occasions from evening parties to military drills. There was even a uniform for the inauguration, a ceremonial design with a silver breastplate engraved with the symbol of the Inquisition that Rin would wear only once and then never again after next week. It would hang on the wall of her room as a symbol of her first step as Inquisitor along with all the other trophies of her accomplishments she would receive throughout her new career.

As she stood there with her arms sticking out while the tailor measured her for the fifth time “just to be sure”, Rin’s mind wandered back to Speaker Anais.

_“More is at stake here than just closing the Breach. You have to earn the trust of the people first. And that takes the politics you don’t want to be a part of.”_

That was what she had said, hadn’t it? She liked to think Anais was in her right mind when she had given her such advice.

Despite her misgivings about the entire situation, she couldn’t help feeling a slight spark of excitement. All these shems rushed around making sure _she_ looked good. Everyone bowing in respect as she walked by. The elves in the village stared at her with scrutinizing curiosity, wondering what one of their own was going to do with a title that would never be considered for a “knife-ear” under normal circumstances.

When she wasn’t being fitted for clothes and armor, Cassandra had pulled her aside to teach her how to speak.

“I can speak quite well, thank you!” Rin snapped at her irritably.

The Seeker sighed with a slight groan. “This isn’t an attack on your intelligence,” she shot back. “What you say is less important than _how_ you say it. You can tell a noble that his mother smells of dragon dung, and he will agree with you wholeheartedly if you make it sound appealing enough.”

“It’s seduction. I get that, trust me.”

“It is… to a point. Leliana informed me of your _activities_ before you ended up at the Conclave.”

She must have seen Rin go pale for she quickly added, “Nothing too personal, so I’m not judging at all! You were a dancer, yes? That kind of seduction is very overt, which, for that particular environment, would be necessary. Here, the method of seduction, if we’re to call it that, would be far more subtle. You want them to _like_ you, not jump into bed with you.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Uuugh, _please_ take this seriously, Rin.”

“Okay, okay.”

For hours, they practiced formal speaking. It was required for Rin to make a speech for her official inauguration, she couldn’t just accept her new position without a word and leave it at that. So they practiced what she would say, making sure every word had meaning and impact.

The sun was long gone by the time the elf crawled back into her room and every night after that. Some nights, Ket would be there, and they would lay together, too tired to say or do anything but curl into the other and sleep. But some nights he wasn’t, and it probably would have been a very lonely feeling indeed if she didn’t fall asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. She missed his company, probably the only person who didn’t pressure her with all these sudden high expectations. And the heat that gently radiated off his body to keep her warm as the nights only became colder was nice, too.

When the day of her inauguration finally arrived, it was over far too quickly for something they had spent the past seven days straight preparing for. Rin had performed beautifully, and even though her speech had been completely different from what she had practiced, it had a much better effect. She had spoken from her heart, and Cassandra waved away her profuse apologies for making something up after her brain had gone completely blank. “All the more proof that you are willing to accept this task,” the Seeker had said. “The people of Haven have accepted you. Now it is time for the rest of the world to accept you.”

They had not been the only ones busy that week. The villagers had pooled together their resources and worked their fingers to the bone to bestow the Inquisitor with gifts after the ceremony. Most gifts were pretty little trinkets, pieces of armor, weapons, amulets, money, jewelry, even gems and runes. Regardless of their level of use, they were ultimately a symbolism of Haven’s acceptance of their new Inquisitor. As her career progressed, more such gifts would be given to her, symbols her wealth and power.

That night, the village came alive with bonfires and music. This one wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the great feasts of Winterwatch, however. The food was mediocre and the beer was terrible in comparison. Rin knew she was going to have the worst hangover in the morning if she kept drinking that shit. Euphoria could not settle in, not fully, not with the Breach right there above them. But the music… the music was filled with a lot of heart, a genuine song of her praises with each leaping note. It may not have been the most proper thing for a newly appointed leader in her position, dancing with the people like she was one of them, but she didn’t care. And according to the cheers and shouts of joys of those around her, they didn’t care either.

So she drank and she danced, the firelight bathing her in its crimson glow as she celebrated alongside her people. Yes, they were her people now. Even the shems, which kind of weirded her out if she thought too long about it. But they all depended on her to keep them alive, at least through the winter, and finally close the Breach for good. In the light of the fire, she truly felt divine.

Rin’s head slammed against the wall with a sharp gasp as Ket paid his own _tribute_ to the new Inquisitor now that the party was finally over, and they had a moment alone for the first time in a week. Each wet flick of his hot tongue was a testament of his fealty. He had told her he didn’t care for the Maker or any religious belief whatsoever, but here in this moment, on his knees before her, he more devoted than any Chantry brother. His fingers dug into her thighs, the muscle beneath grown thick from years of dancing, holding her place when she finally melted into his eager mouth as stars danced in her eyes. She certainly would have fallen otherwise.

“Oh…okay,” she panted, her mind floating in afterglow. “I… I keep meaning to ask but… H-h-how are you so fuckin’ good at this?”

Ket shrugged as he kissed away a drop of her climax trailing down her leg. “Practice,” was his hoarse voice’s lazy reply.

“Horseshit,” she shot back. “You mean to tell me a bunch of magic nerds have kinky orgies in those Circles?”

He sat back and crossed his arms as if considering something important. “Well, there were _four_ of us that one time. Would that count as an orgy? I thought there had to be at least five.”

“You are a _liar!”_ she exclaimed.

“Swear on the Maker,” he shot back with a smirk.

“You don’t even believe in the Maker!”

With a laugh, he tugged her down into his arms, and entangled his hands in her thick hair. “Will the Herald of Andraste punish me for my blasphemy? I kind of hope so.” His lips trailed along her neck, right on that sensitive line where her pulse stirred crazily all over again. She could smell herself on his mouth, and her need began to grow anew. She licked her lips at the idea of giving him a tribute of his own for a job well done. Work was over for now, they had _all night_ to play.

“And here I thought you were too caught up in your books to notice anyone.” She was too caught up in his well-placed touch to have any bite to her tone.

“I noticed you.”

“Yeah, but _I’m_ awesome.”

“To be fair, there was this one time I actually was reading while a guy pounded me raw.”

Rin sat back, shocked. “No way!”

He nodded. “It’s true. Apparently, his partner acting bored was a big kink for him. It wasn’t really my taste, but hey, I wasn’t one to judge. Built like a fucking mule, though, there was nothing boring about the way he moved. It was all I could do just to concentrate on _acting_ like I couldn’t care less. He was even irritated when I came. I told him it wasn’t him, it was the steamy book I was reading. And then he said that he didn’t think _Astrological Practices of Pre-Imperial Tevinter_ was such a turn on for me.”

“And it would be, too, ya nerd!” She burst out laughing. “That’s amazing. So tell me the truth: did you end up sleepin’ with your _entire_ Circle or what?”

He snorted. “Of course not. The Circle just has its boring moments sometimes, that’s all. Combined with hormonal urges, and next thing you know, you’re sneaking off with someone or two to pass the time. I myself was very sexually frustrated _a lot.”_ He pulled her in for a kiss, one that she eagerly returned. He tasted like her, too, surprisingly sweet.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” he whispered thickly when they parted their lips to catch their breath. “Wondering _what if_ all the time. You left my House, and I had no idea if I would ever see you again.”

“You wanted to sleep with me that bad, eh?”

He didn’t return her grin, and her cheeky expression faded under his serious gaze. Maker, this was it. They were going to actually talk about _this._ All this. What they had been doing for the past few weeks while ignoring everything else and what was going to become of it. This conversation could go in any infinite direction, and Rin had no idea if she was prepared for any of them.

What if Ket wanted this to stop now that his curiosity was satisfied? What if he wanted them to run off and get married tonight since there was a Chantry Mother conveniently staying in a room a few doors down from this one? Oh, but he didn’t believe in the Maker so maybe they would run off in the woods together to live like a pair of hermit lovers? Where were her thoughts even going right now?

“Rinlyra…”

Andraste’s tits, he used her real name! That meant whatever he was about to say was very serious, indeed. Rin’s heart thundered in her chest, slamming against her ribcage like it was trying to break free as if, like her, it was already convinced it couldn’t take whatever Ket had to say. He wouldn’t look like that if he thought she would enjoy the news, would he?

“We both know we need to talk. And it’s long overdue.” His gaze faltered in the slightest moment of weakness, but then he forced himself to look into her eyes again. “I mean, what I really want to say is – “

_BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!!!!!_

“Inquisitor! Inquisitor!”

Both Rin and Ket scrambled to put on their clothes the moment someone slammed their fist loudly on the door like they were trying to break their way inside. The voice was female and desperate, choking back sobs as she called for the Inquisitor over and over again. Rin opened the door, and she could hear hinges creak up and down the hall as others did the same. The face of the elven woman standing in front of her was red and streaked with tears, and she clung to Rin’s tunic the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“Inquisitor, it’s my son! It’s Linel! They took him! _They took him!”_

Rin had to pry the hysterical mother off her, grasping her by the shoulders. “Slow down, slow down, who took him?”

 _“They_ did! _Them!_ Those _savages_ in the woods! They’ll eat him! _They’ll eat him!”_

She screamed the last words with such certainty, she collapsed in a fit. A few Sisters immediately tried to comfort her while Rin stood there feeling very confused. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, we’ll find him,” she said lamely because what else could she say, really? She looked to Ket for help, but he was just at a loss for words as she was.

“It’s the Dalish clan who call themselves Ba’ralin,” Leliana explained, suddenly appearing next to Rin and startling her. She wore the same hood and armor she always did, convincing Rin that this woman didn’t sleep ever. “They usually keep to themselves, but they have been connected to some disappearances in the Frostbacks. We even lost a few our own who had strayed on their way to the Conclave.”

“Those are the elves that eat people, aren’t they?” Rin asked, remembering now the interesting tale Flissa the tavern keep had told her back when she was first able to walk around this village without someone accusing her of killing the Divine.

“So the rumor goes,” the spymaster confirmed with a nod. “They are actually very difficult to track so scouting them to observe their behavior is impossible. Most of what is known about them comes from other Dalish… who keep their distance from that particular clan for good reason.”

“Please find him,” Linel’s mother begged, her voice now barely a throaty whisper as she slowly rocked back and forth. “Find my boy. My boy. He’s - he’s all I have since his father and older brother were killed by bandits! Please find him! Inquisitor!”

They decided it would be better for a few elven scouts to go with Rin. Solas was nowhere to be found, again, and the presence of any humans would without a doubt only anger the Dalish and escalate the situation. A teenage girl had stepped forward, also in tears, shaking from head to toe as she told her story while choking on every other word. She and Linel had gone into the woods for a moment together. Apparently, they had wandered too far, too concerned with keeping themselves from getting caught by their parents to pay attention to the rest of their surroundings. The girl had managed to escape, but Linel had clearly not been so lucky.

“They let her go,” Leliana said to Rin after the girl’s parents gently steered her away while the Inquisition thanked her for her testimony. “This is a good sign.”

“It is?” 

She gave a wry smile. “Risha is human. If they were hungry, they would have taken her, too.”

“Oh. Damn.” It was a little unnerving when Leliana put it that way. 

_If they were hungry._

Most of her childhood, Alarith the shopkeeper had insisted in his stories that the Dalish were a peaceful if formidable people. Then again, the forest clan who had saved his caravan from bandits those many years ago turned out to be on good terms with most shemlen and city elf traders, anyway. Clan Ba’ralin was a much different, much more terrifying story. 

“Be careful out there, Rin,” Leliana warned. “Until now, Ba’ralin hasn’t been known for taking anyone from _within_ the village. This may be much more complicated than an abduction. Especially considering Linel’s heritage.” 

Rin had a feeling there was no need for the spymaster to clarify, but she asked all the same and the response confirmed her suspicion. 

“Linel is a half-elf.” 

No surprise, to be honest. There were only a handful of elven families living in Haven before the Conclave. Breeding with shems would have been an inevitable necessity. A shame, really. In Denerim, half-elves were always regarded with pity. Shianni had been lucky not to fall pregnant, but if she had, her child would have had to endure that same fate, always looked at with eyes that made a child realize the shame of their birth since a young age.

So a half-elf boy had told her once, a long long time ago. Niel, that was his name. At sixteen, he had drowned in a well. The adults all insisted it was an accident, and after it came out that _hahren_ Valendrian couldn’t find a spouse for him, a coincidence and nothing more.

“Ba’ralin are not in the habit of taking half-elves,” Leliana continued, breaking Rin out of her melancholy thoughts of home. “Liila, a half-elf mage I know told me she survived the Conclave because she was late. She had gotten separated from her group in the mountain for a time. I asked her if she experienced anything odd, and she said that the worst experience was how cold it is up there. And then the Conclave exploded. Otherwise, she’d managed to find her way back to Haven without incident. The half-elves in the village also report having gotten lost in the forest at one time or other throughout their lives. All found. It’s not much to go on, I know, but it leads me to believe that the Ba’ralin took Linel for another reason. It’s most likely a trap.”

“That figures. But why? How am I threat?”

“Well, there are significantly more people in the area for starters. Perhaps the Ba’ralin fear you will be a threat to their territory.”

“I guess that’s a good point.”

“Just treat this with an open mind. There might be a way to get Linel back without issue. Are you good in melee combat?”

Her sudden question caught Rin off guard, and it took her a moment to answer. “I can hold my own, definitely,” she replied with a nod. “Our mother taught Luey how to duel wield daggers, and then she taught me. I just prefer a crossbow.”

“A crossbow won’t do you any good in that forest.”

Leliana handed her a pair of daggers. They both were black blades etched in silver, a raven head carved into the obsidian hilt with a gleaming topaz eye. “My gift to the Inquisitor. My apologies that I had not given them to you soon.”

“No, no, these are amazing!” Rin tossed one into the air, then the other, and they both landed in her hands, their hilts molding into her palms like they were meant to be there. They had good weight and balance, more than just a symbolic trinket of one’s fealty. “Thank you.”

Humans stayed behind in the village not just because their presence would anger the Dalish. It would be a few hours still before first light, and the moon had already set. Their eyes would be completely useless to them in the dark. Not that Rin’s night vision helped her much, truth be told. Into the dark forest she went, and with her returned the dizzying feeling of losing her sense of direction. The fog had rolled in, obscuring the tops of the trees and making their trunks stretch into forever. She felt so tiny and insignificant next to them, having no control whatsoever.

She tried her best to keep up with the scouts, but they were fast. Some of them had grown up in Haven, and knew this forest as well as they knew their own mothers. They had napped under its watch, listened to its lullabies, gathered food from its bosom. Soon enough, they left Rin completely behind, disappearing into the branches that swallowed them whole.

“Great,” she groaned with a shiver. It was silent in this forest. No sounds of crickets and croaking frogs comforted her with their night symphony. It was the dead hour, a time when even the nocturnal creatures were tired and had gone home to bed. Rin’s fingers danced along the hilts of her daggers. She still wished she had brought her crossbow, but now she knew what Leliana meant about it being useless. She couldn’t see that far into the dark and firing blindly at every little sound would just be a waste of ammunition.

Something moved above her. It was so quiet all around her, her ears could pick up any sound easily. A slight creak of a branch. A breeze stirred, whistling through the empty space between the trunks as if to mask the sound, but she knew that only weight set upon it could make a branch groan like that. Cold sweat trickled down her spine with a strong sensation of being watched. She thought she saw tiny pinpricks of light from within that darkness, just out of the corner of her eye. But every time she looked, only impenetrable blackness stared back at her.

She had to move on. She had to find the scouts and find Lindel. Her knees were shaking so hard, she could barely hold herself upright much less start walking in any direction. She didn’t have any idea which direction she could even start with, everything looked the same no matter where she turned. The scouts had taken to the trees to look ahead, not leaving any footprints in the snow for her to follow. The only footprints were the ones she made from the village, and they too disappeared into the darkness behind her. She didn’t want to be swallowed by the forest.

Something plopped down just in front of Rin, a large shadowy thing about her size, and the Inquisitor would have screamed had a leather glove not clamped itself over her mouth. “Forgive me, Inquisitor,” a woman said and Rin’s senses recognized the voice of one of the scouts, Sennah. “What are you still doing back here? We’re almost a half a mile ahead of you!”

“I think I should have pointed out earlier that I’m no good with this whole woods thing,” Rin replied somewhat sheepishly when Sennah removed her hand.

“What?”

“Give me a break, I’m a city elf, alright? Never had to step foot into the forest until now.”

Sennah clicked her tongue like a mother dealing with a petulant child. “Alright. I’ll go slow. Just stay close to me, please.”

They kept to the ground this time, picking their way through the brush deeper into the forest. They said nothing, Sennah too busy looking for signs on the ground and listening for any calls from her fellow scouts. Every now and again, she made a sound in her throat in reaction to whatever she found. Rin watched in absolute amazement, that all this elf had to do was look at a twig or some dirt and she could uncover all the juicy details about who had done what on this particular patch of ground. Rin dutifully watched over her as the scout worked, her ears twitching back and forth as she listened for any strange noises.

“They passed through this way,” Sennah whispered as her finger traced over a pile of dead leaves. “So they didn’t take him into the trees like Marka thought. Now it makes more sense. This is so strange. We could have sworn we saw – ”

She was moving faster now, and Rin began to worry the scout would suddenly take off without her like they had the first time. “Andraste’s tits, we could have found him already if we checked the ground first to begin with,” she cursed under her breath, moving faster and faster until she was almost at a run, and Rin struggled to keep up. “This is definitely Lindel’s shoe,” Sennah continued to muttered. “But where are the other footprints?” Then she stopped so suddenly, the other elf almost slammed into her back.

“You okay, Senn – “

“Shhh.”

Sennah tweeted, like an early morning bird waking just before the sky lightened. She listened but there was nothing. She tweeted again, a perfectly natural forest sound for this hour, and this time a pair of ravens shot into the sky with a sharp flutter, screeching loudly, and making both elves jump. Not the response she wanted, and the one she waited on didn’t come.

Rin had gone completely still, not paying attention to the scout anymore. She was fixated on a patch of darkness within the trees. Something was staring at her from within that darkness, standing tall, a strange black form that reminded her of the very creature she had been seeing in her dreams for almost two months now. She shook her head, sure she was seeing things.

She opened her eyes, and it was still there. And it was getting closer now. It didn’t walk, but rather _glided_ toward her, its black cloak trailing silently across the snow. A bleached skull sat atop its massive shoulders, antlers from no deer she had ever seen before curling up and outward like tree branches.

“Sennah…” Rin squeaked, her voice too scared to leave the safety of her throat. “Sen… Sennah…”

She glanced over to see that the scout was gone. Her mouth dropped open. How could Sennah just run off and leave her like that!? And in the same instant, she realized that she would have _heard_ the scout take off. Sennah was just _gone,_ as if she had never been there to begin with.

The creature stopped a few feet in front of Rin. The elf gripped her daggers in a defensive stance, but her shaking hands could barely hang onto them.

_Thunk!_

Rin jumped when an arrow flying from high above slammed deep into the ground, barely missing her foot. It was enough to chase the fight completely out of her, and her weapons dropped to the ground. The creature held a skeletal hand out, a gesture that commanded a ceasefire. No, the hand wasn’t skeletal, not upon closer look, the hand was simply decorated with many rings and bracelets made of bone that gently clattered together with its swift movement.

Then it _bowed_ its head at her.

“Um… hi?” Rin replied, then quickly remembered Leliana’s words to settle the situation with as little confrontation as possible. “Uh, ah, y-y’know, I’m the Inquisitor. The leader of that group in Haven. You… you may have heard of it. Nice to, uh, nice to meet you. Anyway, I’m lookin’ for Lindel. Y’know. The boy you kidnapped. Well, the Dalish kidnapped. Which, I assume, is, um, y-you guys.”

There was nothing otherworldly about that arrow nestled just a little close to her boot, that’s for sure.

The creature straightened and stared at her for so long, Rin wondered if she had said something wrong. She braced herself, waiting for it to raise its hand again, this time to command for a volley of arrows to turn her into that gross Orlesian cheese with all the holes in it. She whimpered when the creature did raise its hand from within its cloak, but this time it held a long staff that also looked to be carved from bone, and its macabre bracelets clacked again as it pointed with the staff to the dark direction it had come from.

“Are they in there?”

The creature did not respond.

“Um, I’m gonna pick up my daggers now. They were a gift, so I don’t wanna lose them. So, uh, don’t let your guys shoot me. Promise?”

The creature regarded her for a breath, then slowly tilted its head in a single nod.

_So these Dalish do understand Trade tongue. Good to know._

Rin sheathed her daggers, and began walking in the direction the creature had pointed. It glided next to her so that only her footsteps crunched in the snow. Unnerving to say the least.

The Mark sparked and swirled around her hand, and Rin’s stomach dropped. She felt as if more eyes were watching her from the darkness now, this time much more sinister and hungry. The forest air was now tainted with the scent of rot and sulfur. Green light flowed from just beyond the trees, and then she stepped into a clearing where she could see into the Fade from the gaping rift in reality.

Loud screeches rang in the air as a few demons clawed out of the rift. They had not taken two steps when the trees fought back, throwing their sharp little branches at the monsters. No, that was just the darkness playing tricks on her eyes. Common sense told her those were arrows, not branches, firing from high in the trees where the Dalish kept a safe distance. Each demon that tore its way into reality from the rift found itself dissolving into black ooze as another arrow found its mark. The Dalish could defend themselves easily enough, but their arrows would not last forever.

The truth of the situation gave Rin enough confidence to stare at the creature right in the eyes, and in the light of the rift, it didn’t look that much taller than Ket. “Y’know, if you guys wanted me to close this thing for you, you could have just asked. No need to go kidnappin’ a curious kid just tryin’ to have a good time with his girl in the woods.”

Even with those empty sockets, the creature gave her a look that made Rin question the logic of her words. This was Ba’ralin, a Dalish clan known for eating people and whispered about only in fear. They would not have been well received by the villagers, and probably didn’t even trust the Inquisitor, an elf herself, to believe them enough to help them. “You’re right,” Rin muttered, even though it hadn’t actually said anything. “Just make sure your guys keep those demons from eatin’ me, yeah? I can’t fight and close that thing at the same time.”

She approached the rift before the creature responded. The longer they stood talking about it, one-sided conversation as it was, the bigger the rift grew and the more demons that oozed into the world. More and more emerged, and Rin bit her lip in worry that the Dalish would run out of arrows before the demons could be cleared out enough to close the rift. They crawled toward her with long fingers digging into the earth, all toothy grins and hungry black gazes.

They weren’t the only things that were hungry. When Rin released the Mark, it slithered out of her hand and broke into many different tendrils curling tendrils. She fell at the sheer force of its power, the power of a beast that hadn’t fed in a long time. Smaller jade tentacles wrapped around the demons screeching with rage and terror, squeezing them until they exploded and feeding off their essence. The main vein latched itself to the rift like a leech, and grew fat as it sucked the power of the Fade into its body.

Rin managed to steady herself back on her feet, her head swimming with power. With barely a thought of her own, she tugged on rift to pull the Mark back. There was only a slight resistance before the rift exploded, slamming reality shut once again, and silence returned to the forest.

“There ya go, no fuss, no muss,” Rin said as she wiped her hands together. “Now, about your prisoner – “

The creature was gone. Rin was now starting to get irritated at these elves with their freaky affinity with the woods always disappearing on her. Birds began to chirp now, waking up as the sky grew steadily brighter.

“Inquisitor!”

Sennah approached her with the other elven scouts. Lindel was with them, hanging his head, a slender boy with only slightly pointed ears looking very frightened and ashamed. He was probably more concerned with his parents finding out about his tryst the whole time he was a surprise guest of the Ba’ralin. He glanced at Rin, only to look away again. If the worse thing to come out of all this was embarrassment, then everything turned out for the best.

“You’re okay now, kid,” Rin told him with a gentle pat on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get outta here, yeah?”

He mumbled something.

“What?”

“Ah! Um, thank you, Inquisitor.” He looked away with a bright flush. “I won’t do that again, promise.”

Following Sennah, they all arrived back in Haven without further incident. The sky was a lighter blue just above the mountains now, birds chirping more enthusiastically. Linel’s mother threw herself at her son in a tight embrace, not caring for a second the circumstances that led to his kidnapping, thanking the Inquisitor through her relieved tears that her son was safe once again. Sennah and her scouts took their leave with deep bows of utmost respect.

Rin took a step forward when she heard a chime at her foot. Leaning down, her eyes widened in shock when she picked up the tiny bell she always wore that had somehow fallen off when she left the village. 


End file.
